Windrunner
by cArPeNoctis
Summary: A look into the past and present of the Windrunner family,running back to before the Horde.Told from the eyes of Vereesa,Alleria,Sylvanas and their relatives.
1. Make a wish

_Here it is,_the first chapter of my Windrunner story that I've said I'd write for quite some time now...The reason I'm uploading this now is because I feel a bit tired of my other on going story,"My guardian angel",and just might put it to ,for some time now and in the future,I'm going to focus more on my comics and my own story that I might put up for official publishing. :)

About this story,it centers around the three Windrunner sisters,but also their brothers and their cousin,'s set chronologically,but there will be a lot of jumps in time,so one chapter may take place at one time,and the next several years later (I will be sure to tell ya when that happens though)

So please read and enjoy! :) Next update maybe won't be until long...

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Chapter I: Make a wish

The strong rays of sun reflected on the round – sculptured roofs of Dalaran's buildings, marking this as one of the warmest days of the summer. The many inhabitants, students and visitors of the magical city had removed any extra clothing that would keep them unexposed for any eventual, cooling breeze. Any frost mage that had the luck of providing his services on the streets this day would walk away with a pocket full of gold.

Despite the heat, visitors were determined to have their errands done as quickly as possible. This caused a certain rush and crowd on the paved walks of the city, resulting in families keeping a tight hold of each other.

Such was, though through a lot of effort, the case of one particular elven family that made its way through the mass of people. The family, consisting of two adults and no less than six children, walked together in a huddled group, as to not let the youngest ones slip away from their sight by accident. Because of the many sights and differences that Dalaran held in comparison to their home in Quel'thalas, they were not all too unfamiliar with the little ones wandering of on their own.

The oldest of the children, a girl dressed in a red vest and torn pants, carrying her familiar blonde hair in a short braid, turned her small head as the family approached a certain point of the city. They stopped temporarily as her parents began arguing over something of no great importance in her ears, giving the girl a greater opportunity to study the monument she had laid her eyes on.

"Ann'da," she said, looking up at her father. "Can we go to the fountain, please?"

Her father was distracted by her question, only momentarily turning away from his wife. He made an unsure sound, which could have been either a sound of protest, or a sound of approval, as long as she didn't bother him anymore. She chose the latter, and her face brightened.

"Thanks, we won't be long!"

"Huh?" the head of the Windrunner family said in confusion, spinning around to stare at the spot where she had been standing just a moment ago. "Aller… Alleria!"

But Alleria had already gone too far into her own little world to mind him, already dragging her oldest little sister, Sylvanas, after her. The two girls began giggling when the curiosity and joy of taking a closer look at the fountain arose. They barely heard the shouting of their youngest sister as she struggled to catch up with them. With a loud yelp, she stumbled over an unevenness in the pavement and fell, face first. Alleria, being the responsible sister, slowed down, smiling at her.

"Are you alright, Vereesa?" she asked.

The youngest of the sisters lifted her face from the ground, mud on her cheek and tears forming in her eyes. "I told you to stop leaving me behind before!" she pouted.

Sylvanas rolled her eyes at the sudden delay. "What does it matter, just hurry up!"

Alleria nodded, and helped her little sister stand up, brushing of tears and dirt alike. "Better?" she asked with an encouraging smile.

Vereesa nodded with a sniff, taking her sister's hand as they walked over to the fountain, where Sylvanas was already waiting impatiently for them. As soon as they reached the stone-sculptured edge, Vereesa was quick to lean over and gaze with wide eyes into the water, like it was the first time she had ever seen anything like it. She studied her reflection for a while; showing a fragile girl with the same silvery-blonde hair as her brothers and sisters, two blue eyes in difference to Alleria who had green, and two, long ears jutting up from underneath her hair.

Her image was suddenly ruined by a splash, and Vereesa looked up to see whatever it was that had disturbed her thoughts. Sylvanas, standing triumphantly at the edge and peering down at her, carried a few pebbles in her hand, which she teasingly through into the water, one by one. Pouting at her sister's rudeness, the youngest Windrunner sister immediately turned to the oldest. "Alleria! Tell her to stop, she's scaring the fish!"

"Stupid, there's no fish in the fountain," Sylvanas said teasingly, although she still threw a nervous look at Alleria, wondering what she'd do.

Alleria tore her eyes from the statues standing in the fountain's centre, smiling at them. "That's right, Sylvanas. There are no fish in this fountain," she explained.

Vereesa gave out a quiet "oh", as Sylvanas triumphantly crossed her arms. Alleria smiled again, moving towards them. "But," she started. "There is something else about this fountain. Something that doesn't concern fish, but a wish."

The younger Windrunner girls turned their head at her ridiculous rhyme, but were still listening intensely. Alleria always had a story to tell them. They moved to more comfortable sitting positions on the edge, waiting for her to continue. She pretended to look thoughtful.

"You see… Grandfather told me, during my last visit here, that there is a special legend about this fountain." She paused for a bit to watch their anticipating faces, and smirked. "The legend says that if you drop a coin in the water and make a wish on it, then your wish will come true one day."

"Ooooh, so it's an enchanted fountain…" Vereesa concluded, staring into the water in amazement. She furrowed her brow, as she tried coming up with something she could wish for. But what could that be, when she felt happy as she was?

"I got one!" Sylvanas exclaimed, standing up with her fingers around a glimmering gold coin that glittered in the burning sunlight.

Vereesa widened her eyes at her. "Sylvanas! Ann'da gave us that so we could buy something thoughtful for it!" she recited, immediately jumping up from her seat. Sylvanas rolled her eyes.

"Well, isn't better to use a large amount, so that my wishes will have a larger chance of coming true? And besides, you have money of your own!"

"But ann'da said – "

"Stop whining, already!" Sylvanas shrugged her off, and turned her back to her younger sister. Holding the gold coin tightly in her palms, she closed her eyes and focused her wish onto it. Then, she opened her hands, and let the coin fall from her fingers. As it fell through the air, it turned in a whirl, until it finally it the water's surface and sank to the bottom.

Crying out in protest, Vereesa hurried to the edge and stared into its depths. "No!"

Sylvanas rolled her eyes again. "Aw come on, don't be such a cry-baby."

The two sisters began their bickering once again, as they normally did about ten to twenty times a day, Alleria thought tiredly. She sighed at their stubbornness, and then turned towards the fountain herself.

Staring at the smooth surface for a while, Alleria then slowly reached into her pocket, fumbling after the object she was searching for. Finally, her fingers closed around a cold, round, metal item, which she carefully folded out. Staring at the silver coin's bright surface, she too focused on a wish that formed in her mind.

"_May my sisters realize their full potential, the name Windrunner known as result of their deeds."_

She let the coin go, and allowed it to plummet into the water. She had no clue whatsoever if her wish would truly come true, but it did feel a bit assuring to watch it glide to the bottom. She smiled a faint smile.

"Alleria!"

She snapped out of her thoughts, spinning around as to see who it was that called her. Her father stood with a forceful hold of the two younger girls, who both carried a shameful yet disappointed face, and he himself did not look happy.

"Do you realize what would have happened if your sisters wandered off by themselves? They do not carry the sense of response that you have, they're too young to take care of themselves!"

"I know, but I was watching them," Alleria assured with a somewhat unsteady tone. She hurried up to her father, as he led all of them back to the family group. With a last look at the magical fountain, Alleria once again prayed that maybe, its effects would work.


	2. The Dance

_Ba-zaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,_I managed to upload the next chapter within just a week or so!Praise me!:D No,I'm joking.

In this chapter,I'm introducing the sisters's brothers,father and grandfather.I've had to come up with names for them myself,so if Chris Metzen decides to name them himself one day,then forget everything I've said and listen to him instead,ok?

Also,the event in this chapter takes place some years after the first, and is in many ways inspired by a Kael'thas/Sylvanas fanfic I read from ViciousVigilante. The reason I like this couple is because I don't think there's anything saying that it would be impossible for them to have a romance,and,Kael'thas drops Sylvanas' ring,as she bears his ancestor's bow. That's the main reason... Please comment!

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Chapter II: The Dance

Laughter and voices scattered through the warm and breezing summer air of the Eversong Woods, as the inhabitants of Silvermoon took their full pleasure in celebrating king Anasterian Sunstrider's birthday. Millions of magical lights and flames flickered through the all more darkening summer night, making it impossible to miss the centre of the event; the Palace of Silvermoon.

Standing built in the direct middle of the quel'dorei's capital, the royal palace held greatness in the architecture that no other race would ever even dream of overcoming. The palace, meant not only as the official home of the royal family, but also for meetings, war tactics and refuge for the citizens, and of course grand balls like tonight, was indeed the heart of Silvermoon.

With all rights, throughout the entire stairway leading up to the building's open doors stood the royal guards lined out, alert and ready for any kind of incident. Although their stern and emotionless faces were directed to the all-more starlit sky, Sylvanas could not help but shiver as she passed them, afraid that anything she did would be interpreted as an insult towards the royal family and have her imprisoned. She knew that she was worrying for nothing at all, but through-out the entire day, her very being had vibrated with such anticipation that she now thought all and anything would snap her out of this dream.

Attending the royal ball was a natural privilege to any of the noble families, especially to any as loyal and respected as the Windrunner – clan that had served and defended the capital within many generations. Every member of their family were almost automatically invited to every party or event that king Anasterian held, but out of respect and fear of being humiliated, the heads of the Windrunners chose to simply bring the oldest of their many children. This year, both of the two youngest sisters in the family had gained the permission from their father to attend.

Now, the only one left behind was the youngest child of the family. Lirath, who was separated from his siblings by several years, had been told to stay back home in the village for the evening. He had not taken well to this the slightest, and thus, he had shut himself in his private room by the time the rest of his family took their leave. Happy as she was over her own attending, Sylvanas could not help but feel sorry over his absence.

As her father, the high-posted and well-known Galéndi Windrunner, stopped their pace to show the guards their invitations, Sylvanas' heart resumed its hard beating rhythm. In only a few minutes, she would indeed be entering the royal ball. Shivering with anticipation, she draped her purple silken scarf tighter around her shoulders. The colour had not been her first choice; though her mother told her that red would be the colour of the king, the queen and the prince, and therefore it would be out of the question. And so, she had given up any kind of personal choice in dresses and let her mother do the decision for her.

Glancing at her side by a slight movement in her eye-corner, Sylvanas suddenly noticed the beam that surrounded Vereesa. Although this was a first-time ball for the both of them, Vereesa looked like she was ready to jump out of her skin any moment. As she caught her sister's stare, she reflected a smile and made a silent mime to show her emotions, yet obvious they were.

The guard announced that they may proceed inside, and Galéndi threw a long look at his five children, telling them that from now on, any inappropriate behaviour was not accepted. Sylvanas swallowed.

As one of the guards loudly announced their arrival, many of the guests already inside, occupied by dancing or mingling and anything of the like, stopped to turn their attention to the highly respected family. Many gave their polite nods; others raised glasses and sent wide smiles, while some even went forward to share a quick handshake with Galéndi.

While pressing a black-haired elf's hand politely, Galéndi asked; "Have you seen Heriand?"

Sylvanas frowned. Though she knew her grandfather was just as well-respected as her father, she still found it odd that her relatives chose to travel one by one, instead of all together. It seemed like all had to be so formal. Then again, she had nothing else to expect.

The elven man nodded with a serious tone. "Ah, right. He's standing over there; his majesty wanted a special word with him. I think he'd be interested in a conversation with you as well, though."

Galéndi nodded. "Very well. I'll be on my way." Slowly starting to follow, Galéndi stopped dead in his tracks, staring at his five present children. Sylvanas and her siblings, Alleria and Vereesa, and their two oldest brothers, Ísen and Urondil, placed themselves on a straight line and awaited his word. After a moment of silence, as if considering leaving them alone or not, Galéndi sent them a dead-serious look and said; "You'll be on your own for a while. Now, do **not **do anything reckless or… stupid. Understood?"

Nodding as one person, the five youths sent him their most assuring smiles and watched as he left.

"So then," Ísen said, turning to Sylvanas. "What do you think so far?"

She sent him a stern smile, shaking her head slightly. "Don't exaggerate anything; I've barely been here for a minute." Despite her answer, she was actually restraining herself from breaking down of nervousness. This was the real ball room!

She had trouble not staring at the beautiful people that swirled by on the dance-floor, deeply envying the women's marvellous dresses and graceful movements, and the other moments moving her gaze to the very ceiling or walls, in awe of their decorations.

Ísen laughed. "Still," he said. "A bit sad that Lirath couldn't join us. It would feel so much better if everyone was here."

"Oh please," Alleria snorted. "You're the one who's been allowed the attend longer than any of the rest of us. Shouldn't you be used to enjoying the event as well as teasing your siblings with the gossip afterwards?"

"Now wait; there was never any gossip!"

Alleria rolled her eyes. She stayed quiet for a few seconds, when she suddenly said; "Just where did Vereesa and Urondil go?"

Pausing in admiring the on-going dance, Sylvanas amazed smile dropped as she immediately turned to look for her brother and sister. While they had been standing at her side just one moment ago, they were now gone. Perfect. She groaned, just starting to imagine what kind of trouble Vereesa would do.

Ísen shared her pain, letting out a long sigh. "Oh no…"

Grimacing, Alleria said; "What do you think they'll do?"

"I hope they won't do the one thing father asked them not to do; anything reckless or stupid."

The three of them stood silent. They all knew that Vereesa and Urondil was a duo bound to cause mayhem, wherever they were, and they shared a sigh again.

"I guess I'll go look for them," Ísen suggested. "I know for one thing that father, and grandfather too for that matter, would be glad if we tried mingling a bit, you know, to spread out our ehm…" He paused, trying to figure out the end of his sentence. "You know, simply let people know we're here."

The two sisters nodded, however slowly and significantly. As they were left alone, Alleria made a gesture with her hand and smiled at Sylvanas. Giggling, Sylvanas felt that she could finally give show to how nervous she really was.

Just as she opened her mouth, a tall, bright-haired man with icy blue eyes appeared in front of them. He bowed deeply. "May I, my lady?" he asked, aiming his question at Alleria.

Blushing just slightly, Alleria smiled brightly and accepted his hand. "Very well," she replied with a flirtatious tone. Sylvanas gulped. This was why her sister was so popular with the men, she supposed. The handsome stranger led her out to the dance floor, and soon the two disappeared amongst the many, many guests. Sylvanas sighed, envying Alleria's beauty, as well as admiring her for her way to handle such situations with ease.

She stood still for a while, watching the moving couples on the dance floor that swirled by, the women's dresses reflecting each other in dozens of glittering colours. And then, she realized, she was all alone.

As she saw this, her eyes widened. What was she supposed to do now? She had never been here before, and she knew her family expected her to behave a certain way. So why couldn't Alleria, or even Ísen, have told her any of this before they left? Oh well, she knew Alleria didn't exactly have a chance, but her oldest brother could at least be back by now, right? She pouted, and decided that the best thing to do would be stand silently against the wall and wait for him to return.

A few minutes passed, and Sylvanas silently began to wonder when the dinner would be served. She wished for her mother to be here, but knew that in her state a late night of dancing and bearing a flawless image to others would be too much on her. She smiled sadly, sympathizing her mother's temporary sickness, always seeming to overwhelm her on the worst of days.

Thinking of her mother, the second Windrunner sister turned her eyes to her dress; a long and purple outfit that went just slightly after her curves. She was proud to own it, although she still would have preferred the red one, which was her favourite. Frowning a bit, she wondered who it was that decided that red would be the royal colour, thus preventing others from dressing the way they wanted.

As if reacting to her trail of thoughts, a flash of deep red suddenly caught her gaze. She gasped.

Golden bright hair, green eyes, the red and richly decorated robes that hung over his muscular features… It was no doubt prince Kael'thas Sunstrider himself that stood in front of her.

All sound of the world drained out of her ears, the one thing Sylvanas could register was every movement the prince made. She had seen him before, although then it was on a far and safe distance where he would have no chance of sighting her. But now, he stood within the range of just a few metres away from her. Close enough for her to hear his voice.

As she considered whether or not she should lower her head in respect for him, the prince suddenly whirled around – and looked at her. Colour rising to her cheeks, she immediately lowered her head as to hide her embarrassment.

Footsteps sounded and grew louder, and in a moment, two magnificent, red decorated boots stopped before her. Swallowing, Sylvanas slowly raised her head. Two deep green eyes stared into hers. Kael'thas smiled at her.

"Would you join me for a dance?"

Although she had heard him perfectly clear, Sylvanas still had the urge to ask him to repeat the question. Surely he didn't mean her… But, as she was reminded, facing how she had positioned herself against one of the walls, his proposal couldn't be aimed at anyone else than her.

Taking a few seconds to gather her senses, Sylvanas answered him with the only possible reply, with so much a steady voice as she could manage. "Yes, I'd love to."

In a matter of seconds, they were as much part of the dance as everyone else. It seemed as if every on-looker, servant or other guest had backed away from them as soon as they approached, and Sylvanas did not doubt that so was in fact the case.

Although inexperienced she was in dancing, she managed to keep a decent rhythm while following the prince's leading. She did not dare to look directly at his face; instead she focused her gaze over his shoulder as they swirled over the dance floor. Many it were that suddenly stopped to stare at Kael'thas and the girl he had invited up. Many times she saw one of the dancers accidentally step on his or her partner's foot, and they exchanged brief complaints and apologies before resuming as if nothing had happened.

Sylvanas knew that she was blushing, but also knew that it was her duty as a Windrunner daughter to maintain her perfect image.

"Your name was Sylvanas, right?" Kael'thas asked so suddenly that she nearly stumbled upon his feet, but she quickly regained her composure. His tone was polite yet curious, and he was once again smiling down at her.

"Oh, yes, yes it is," she replied, face darkening as she heard her voice.

Kael'thas simply nodded, glancing over her head as if thinking of something very important and deep. "The second daughter and third child of Sir Galéndi Windrunner?"

Sylvanas smiled slightly. "Fourth child, actually. I have two older brothers and one older sister."

The prince winced a bit. "Ah. My mistake," he said, but smiled none the less.

For a moment, Sylvanas wondered why he was apologizing. There was no chance that someone could be completely accurate concerning the age of her and her siblings, almost no one outside from her family had, nor cared, about that knowledge. Then it occurred to her, that of course Kael'thas would be obliged to know such matters. As the son and rightful heir of king Anasterian, one of his duties would be to know every name and relation of the noble families. Parties like these were like rehearsals or exams for him.

After a small pause, Sylvanas dared to look up at him. He towered only slightly over her in height; it was their difference in rank that made her want to dance on her toes. "It's nothing to apologize for; it can happen to everyone," she told him quietly. With a slight grin, she added; "Age doesn't really have that matter, anyway." She kept herself from laughing as she was reminded of Lirath's anger earlier that day.

"I'd say you have a point there," Kael'thas said, and chuckled. Sylvanas mentally praised herself for being able to entertain him.

They both continued to dance, sharing polite discussions and compliments as they went. At one point, Sylvanas caught sight of Alleria who had exchanged the bright-haired man for an older noble-son with wide shoulders. Recognizing her younger sister's companion, she smiled widely and winked. Sylvanas blushed once again before they disappeared from each other's eyes.

After what seemed to be only a few minutes, the song played by the musicians ended, and everyone stopped to applaud. A bit disappointed, Sylvanas readied herself for a formal thanking and farewell. Instead, the young prince turned to her once again and reached for her hand.

Colour rose to her cheeks, and she blushed even more as he bent forward to kiss it gently. He straightened himself, looking into her eyes. "May I invite you for another dance, milady?"

Mind clouded, Sylvanas made a mental slap to return to her senses. She brightened up her face and replied with a beaming voice. "It would be a pleasure, your highness."

Grinning at her, Kael'thas once again led her out to the dance floor, just as the musicians started a new song. This time, it was a bit calmer piece, causing the couples to move closer to one another. As did the prince and Sylvanas.

Over Kael'thas' shoulder, Sylvanas suddenly caught the eyes of her father, who stood near one of the walls in deep conversation with a scholar. From his expression, Sylvanas could see what mental thought it was that he was trying to send her. _Make a fool out of yourself now, and you are no longer considered my daughter._

She smiled against her dance partner's robed shoulder. Despite her own fears of embarrassing herself, she had a feeling that nothing could ruin her current mood. In her own beliefs, right now, everything was perfect.


	3. Potential

_Yes,it's finally done! _I'm sorry if you think I was lazy in writing this,but the truth is that...no you're right,I'm extremely lazy. BUT,I **do **actually have a lot of other projects going on right now that slowed me down quite a bit. I'm still happy I got around to finish this...

So,this chapter takes place a few years (two to five) after the last chapter. It is what leads up to Alleria's appearance in the novel 'Tides of darkness' and the game 'Warcraft II:Tides of Darkness'. I really like Alleria,but I think she'll be a difficult character to write about in future chapters because of her thorough hate of the Horde. Wish me luck and cheer for me...

Please enjoy!

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Chapter III: Potential

"Lady Alleria, sir Galéndi called for you."

The oldest of the Windrunner sisters froze in her steps as the message was transferred. She glanced between her father's assistant who had come to deliver his call, and Sylvanas who had stopped in her tracks at the same time as her. When their eyes met, her sister quickly nodded. "Oh that's alright. I'll just tell the others you'll be with us in a while."

She hesitated for a moment, before giving her a warm smile. "Thank you."

Sylvanas dashed away, her silvery blonde hair floating behind her. Of course she would be eager to meet with her friends from the capital that they never got to see often enough. Especially when they perhaps carried news about a certain young prince, Alleria mused as she followed the messenger.

The day was warm, as it would seem natural during the middle of the summers in Quel'thalas. The golden sunlight carefully peered through the almost ruby red leaves of the trees that never changed colour despite the time of the year, perhaps due to a magical effect. Or maybe it was just the presence of the peaceful elves that made the trees carry a beautiful mood and stand unchanged through the flow of seasons. The high elves did care for the nature, in which they lived, and to sing for the plants in their presence was perhaps a remnant of the time they lived as high borne in Kalimdor, but it was something they would never stop with. Elves naturally belonged in the woods, and as did Alleria.

This was her home. This was the village that she and her ancestors had grown up in, thus naming it the 'Windrunner village' after the noble family which had cared for it during all these years. The village lay in the southwest part of Quel'thalas, a long way from Silvermoon.

The noble family itself lived inside the village, in a house that carried an undeniable and astonishing beauty compared to that of the other residents nearby.

But such was only a small detail in the every day life of the habitants in the Windrunner village. After all, they were the ones who would defend their village and represent them for the royal family.

Standing majestically above the village, raised above the ocean was the Windrunner Spire where Galéndi and his advisors spent most of their time, doing work for the capital. Although it was considered the main point of the village, it still lay separated from the other residents, causing Alleria to sigh as she started to head up the long path that led up to the Spire. She was even further annoyed when reminded of the amount of stairs that the building had. But, it was her father's summons, and even if she was not of his blood, she was still far enough below him so that his orders were her absolute law.

She took a deep breath and began to climb the stairs that circled round and round, seemingly never- ending. As she climbed, she encountered many of her father's assistants, advisors and servants, who all seemed very happy to see her. Most of the males threw her appreciating looks to say the least, which reminded Alleria to ask her father about his skill in hiring staff again.

At last, she reached the platform that represented Galéndi's private office door. The door frame was much more richly decorated than the others, and even the floor seemed to be more accurately cleaned here.

She heard voices from inside, yet she still made a light knock with the back of her gloved hand. The voices inside temporarily stopped, and then grew a bit louder. Her sharp hearing told her that the individuals inside began to approach the door, thus beginning to end their conversation. The door swung open, revealing to her the face of a very old and scarred elf. A stung of recognition flared through her mind, and she remembered that this was one of the nobles from the Fairbreeze village, that lay slightly closer to the capital. He had participated in the Troll wars and fought bravely for the country, thus granting him his noble title. He was very, very revered among the higher society. If she could only place his name…

His glimmering, wise eyes pierced right into hers, his face a stern mask. Over his shoulder, she spotted her father who gave her an equally straight expression, though with a hint of expectation. He was giving her a silent test on whether she could remember the high nobles or not, something which was required from a noble daughter as herself.

_Do not stutter…_Alleria told herself. She swallowed. _Think… Something that began with an E… right? Or not? _Why was her throat so dry? Why were her cheeks darkening? It was clearly obvious that she did not remember his name.

The answer suddenly flashed before her, and her face burst into a bright smile, both of politeness and joy over succeeding. "Lord Elildor! What a great honour to be able to meet you on a day as beautiful as this one!" She made a deep bow, managing to catch her father's nod of approval before lowering her head.

The wise noble returned a bright grin. "Lady Alleria," he said and made a half as deep bow. "The pleasure is purely mine." He turned to Galéndi, though saying nothing for a brief moment. "Well then friend, think about what we discussed and I hope to hear an answer from you as soon as you can manage."

"Of course, sir." Alleria's father bowed deeply as Lord Elildor made his way down the stairs. As soon as he was out of sight, he put a hand to his daughter's shoulder, motioning for her to come inside his office.

It was decorated just like it always was, ever since she was a child. Numbers and rows of bookshelves lined up against the walls, filled with tomes of all from history descriptions to magical techniques to different bestiaries. Occasionally, a shelf would be covered by an enchanted object, like a blue gem that floated just above the surface on its own, or a feather that changed colour when you touched it. She smiled to herself as she remembered how her father had picked one of the objects down once in a while, and allowed her to toy with them while he busied himself with his necessary work. Those days seemed so far away now.

In the middle of the office, a wooden desk stood placed, several books lined up at its edges. Different gems lay spread over its surface, along with feather quills, jars of magical essences and other things that she could not identify. The light source, a large and neatly cleaned window was placed right behind it, blinding her momentarily as she turned around.

Galéndi closed the door behind her, and studied her in silence for a few seconds. She gave him a questioning glance, and he moved to sit in the chair behind his desk. Once he was sitting, she uttered her wonder out loud; "What is the reason for you to summon me, father?"

Perhaps it sounded harsh, but Alleria did not feel like waiting for his point longer than necessary, as he didn't have any time to stay away from his subject. At the time when the only children of the family had been herself and her brother Ísen, the oldest of the Windrunner siblings, Galéndi had taken his time off for them all once in a while, often enough to be a strong father's figure for them both. But then came Urondil and Sylvanas, and not long after, Vereesa and Lirath as well. Not only did the growing amount of children cause their mother to grow weaker and weaker, it made it harder for their father to take private time for them all. And so, he had gradually begun to grow further away from them, as if building a wall of no emotions between them. He simply couldn't afford to let children disturb his work.

The days that he would carry her in his arms and hold her up to the sky were nothing more than a memory right now.

Galéndi pulled his mouth into a thin line and lowered his head, as if avoiding looking her in the eyes. "I heard that you gave Ísen the rank of assistant ranger- captain," he said emotionlessly.

She nodded slowly. "Yes. He's in Silvermoon as we speak."

"I must say you have done well in keeping the clan and its reputation intact, even in matters like these," her father said, leaning backwards in his chair. "The rest of our people will have to realize the greatness in potential that we carry, second only to the royal family."

Alleria was startled. "But… father, I made Ísen assistant captain because of his skill in leadership and archery, not because he is my brother. That would make me seem so… narrow- minded."

Galéndi nodded, focusing his gaze at her face, though still not looking directly at her. "I know. Yet you manage to keep the family together very skilfully. You were the one who taught him how to rise in the ranks, were you not?"

She made a sound as to express how offended she felt, but her father did nothing but slightly raising an eyebrow behind his interlaced fingers. "Father- "

"You've shown much talent of late, Alleria," Galéndi said and stood up to walk around the desk. "Not only in keeping the family together. Leadership, ability to foresee consequences and unexpected events, skill in archery and other weapons…" he counted. Alleria frowned, wondering where he was going. He swirled around, for a moment meeting her eyes. During those few seconds, they were both silent. An indescribable mood flooded through the office, and was broken when Galéndi looked away.

"Such abilities," he continued, "is exactly what I expect from a future clan- leader."

Alleria's eyes widened. For a moment, she had trouble registering exactly what he had said, but when the meaning of the words came to her mind, she quickly began to feel insecure.

"I... father, I… But, what about Ísen? He's older than me and just as capable of… and with my current position, I doubt I would have any time to take care of noble business as well…"

"By the time that I and your grandfather will pass onto you the role, you can name Ísen your successor," Galéndi said sternly. "He and I have talked, and we both think that you're the one most suited to lead the clan."

She swallowed, suddenly realizing what was now expected of her. And that without her knowing, he and her grandfather had been watching her perform her duties, always judging her by her decisions and choices of solving problems that was given to her. Biting her lip, she considered dashing out of the room and hiding out among the trees of the forest, temporarily escaping anything that had to do with leadership. Then, her father put a hand to her shoulder again.

"Do not be afraid, Alleria. I was just as shaken as you are now when my father named me the successor. In time, you will learn all that the role will mean."

He looked at her, expecting a sort of reaction from her. Slowly, she nodded. She lightly shook of his hand and exited the room, with an almost inaudible; "Goodbye, father." She closed the office door behind her. This was most defiantly not what she had expected when she was summoned earlier.

Silently, almost as if in a trance of some sort, she walked down the stairs, completely oblivious to the greetings advisors and assistants passed on to her. Her mind stood still, not even working to process their conversation. She was suddenly just so tired. She needed to talk to someone about this, but who would that be? Defiantly not Ísen, because even if it weren't for his current absence, she was too afraid of hurting him. He was after all the oldest of them all, and most of them had always believed him to be the future clan- leader. Not Urondil or Vereesa, they were both too carefree to rely on about something like this. Sylvanas? No, despite loving her sister to death, she still felt that the second Windrunner daughter admired her far too much to be able to see the full importance of it.

As an unexpected loneliness started to creep upon her, the face of her youngest sibling suddenly appeared before her mind. Lirath was young and not yet trained in any art of war, but he was calm and gathered when it came down to things. Yes, she would rely on him in this case.

She ran down the path of the Spire, mind focused on finding her little brother, when a gathering of people in the village caught her eyes. She mentally slapped herself, remembering the group of riders and friends from the capital that had arrived just before her summons. She had promised to meet with some of her closest acquaintances from there, Lor'themar Theron and Halduron Brightwing.

The two young men were rangers as well, and she had first befriended them during her lessons in archery in Silvermoon. Both of them were sons of prominent quel'dorei families, most likely also meant to succeed the leadership of their clans. Perhaps they could, too, give ear to her worries.

As she approached the mass of people, she began to discern some of her aunts and uncles, as well as Vereesa who quickly disappeared somewhere with another young elf. She smiled, remembering that how well brought up that her sister yet was, she was still considered a child and had not yet began her training. Better to let her play while she had the chance.

Her eyes wandering over the amount of faces, she suddenly saw a flash of silver hair, which turned out to belong to Sylvanas. She laughed loudly at something another person said, who in turn stood leaned against one of the resident's walls. His long, golden hair was brought up in a high ponytail, emphasizing his sapphire blue eyes. He was dressed in a classic ranger suit, and smiled brightly at the young woman in front of him. It was Halduron Brightwing.

Alleria made a slight sigh of relief as she saw his face, and began to make her way up to him through the crowd. A lot of villagers had come to see their sons and daughters and relatives come back from training and studying in the capital, and during times like these, the streets of the village were always packed with people. Eventually, she managed to get closer to them, and thus also catching fragments of their conversation.

At first, all she heard was laughter. Then, from the storm of voices that sounded through the forest air, she was able to discern the words they said.

"What are they thinking? Wouldn't it be interesting to see how the brainwork of a human fares?" Sylvanas said in a mocking tone, almost completely overcome of laughter.

Alleria stopped a pace away from them, close enough to hear what they said, but still hidden by the bodies of the villagers. It was not often that any of the younger elves spoke of the humans, since they had no real experience with them. She focused more intently on their words, to hear what Halduron would reply.

"They're so silly. Perhaps the quel'dorei does owe the humans a favour for aiding us in the Troll Wars, but come on, make a real threat!" Halduron said, shaking his head. "What kind of a name is 'the Horde' anyway?"

The Horde? Were they talking about the orcs that the humans from Lordaeron apparently had sent word of, asking for the high elves assistance? Alleria did not know much, but she doubted that anyone actually did. From what she had been told, the Council of Silvermoon thought didn't acknowledge the orcs as any real threat, more like an excuse to for them to repay their ancient debt. Almost as a sort of mockery, they had done nothing more than sending a small squad of elven warriors to Lordaeron.

Alleria approached them, Halduron lifting his head as he caught sight of her. "Ah, Alleria!" he greeted with a wide smile. Sylvanas instantly turned around and beamed with an equally obvious joy at seeing her.

Alleria nodded to her sister, before focusing on Halduron. "What did you say about the Horde?"

Halduron seemed startled at her stern demand, regaining himself to pass on the word. "Nothing much. It just appears as if the humans have once again asked for the high elves' assistance in their little war, as if we did not have own trouble to think about." He chuckled, causing Sylvanas to join in. Alleria however, did not smile.

In her experience as the ranger- captain, she knew that a real leader, even if it were a weak little human, would have a greater pride than to summon help from another fraction were it only for a minor threat. And to ask for that help twice, when already having gained a small group of assistance – surely it could not be just a small invasion that hovered above them.

Halduron seemed to grow insecure at her lack of humour. "…Alleria? Is something wrong?"

The oldest of the Windrunner daughters looked up. "No… nothing. I think I'll go and see where Vereesa took off."

The golden haired man nodded. "Alright. You'll accompany us back to the capital, won't you?"

"Of course I will. I will see you tonight."

She left, now two questions burning on her mind.

* * *

The journey to Silvermoon went well, and was full of joy as the students reunited with friends they had been separated from during the last weeks. They would all now stay in the capital for the next coming months, to further build up their skills in whatever technique they had chosen. As for those who had practiced their arts for a longer time, like Alleria and Ísen, it was their duty to control the training of the younger students and help them improve. The two siblings would now also need to focus on eventual duties that would be assigned to them, in case war befell their kingdom.

And that, Alleria thought, was in the moment a very possible scenario. All thoughts forgotten about the earlier shock that her father had given her, her mind was now solely fixated on the 'threat' that Halduron and Sylvanas had been talking about. The two younger elves in question were riding a bit ahead of her, both focused on the road ahead of them as they talked about merry subjects. They did not even think for a moment that any orc could be dangerous in the least.

Another rider joined up beside her, leaning forwards to catch her eyes. It was Urondil. He was carrying a worried expression, most likely due to her own troubled one. "Is there anything bothering you, sister?" he asked carefully.

Taking a deep breath, Alleria forced herself to smile and look at her younger brother. "No, not at all. I'm just thinking of how much I will miss mother and the others," she lied.

Urondil nodded slowly, and for a moment, it seemed as if he wasn't completely satisfied with her answer. But he didn't say anything more about it. After that, the only thing he would talk about his difficult magic exams, and how he would always mix up two specific spells, causing his master to yell at him in frustration. Alleria laughed an honest laugh.

They soon reached the gates of the capital, open and guarded for the expected procession. There were a few elves that waited on the inside for the approaching students and visitors. Among them, was Ísen. The oldest of the Windrunner siblings brightened like a star when sighting his brother and sisters, instantly running forwards to greet them and help them off their mounts. Alleria thanked him with a hug as soon as she was on firm ground.

He looked down at her with a smile. "Finally, the captain herself arrives to aid her slave," he said with a joking tone.

Alleria smirked, poking him in the forehead. "What do you mean with 'slave'?" He replied with a chuckle, and together they walked into the city.

During the evening, the students were welcomed with a party thrown by their masters and seniors. Delicious food, marvellous drinks and entertainment by musicians was offered throughout the entire dinner. Alleria held a mask, laughing, talking and dancing with all of her friends, while she really was thinking of the Horde. She had to talk to someone about it, perhaps Lor'themar. He was always reliable and serious; he had even left the dance first because of lack of entertainment. All she had to do later was to find him.

As always when it came to scenarios like these, a lot of young men and women came to ask the Windrunners for a dance. Ísen, Alleria and Urondil never had a moment free during the entire evening, while Sylvanas retired herself and mostly sat down by their table, enjoying the dance from afar. Her sister suspected that her secludedness might in some way be related to the prince. It wasn't unknown in Silvermoon that Prince Kael'thas always had a reserved dance partner for all of the parties thrown by the royal family, and that the two tended to disappear from the crowd after some time, only to appear again together.

As happy as she was that her sister had found love, she was also a bit worried about what it could mean in the future. Of course her father was satisfied to say the least about the situation; it could after all mean a future place on the throne for his grandchildren. But Alleria, and she knew her remaining sister and her brothers had done the same, were considering what would happen if the relationship ended. Sylvanas would still be forced to meet with the prince, and if he were to find another partner, she would have to bow to this girl as well. It would make her very life hard to live.

The night came to an end, and everyone began to stream to their residents, more or less sober and in need of support from their friends. Alleria had to help Ísen drag a completely wasted Urondil out of the party building, Sylvanas laughing behind them. He mumbled something inaudible.

"You be quiet now, you big fool," Ísen groaned under his weight and sniffed in the air. "Gee, your breath is _horrible_."

He looked up to clear his nostrils by breathing in the pure summer night air. It was almost dark outside, and the streets would soon be empty. Most of the party participants had withdrawn to their respective quarters, to talk and reunite with their classmates further. The four noble children, however, were headed straight to their common residence.

Except for Alleria. "You go on ahead," she said, offering her brother's arm to Sylvanas' who gave out a groan in protest. She motioned with her head towards the ranger's quarters. "I think I'll go and have a short talk with my new students.

"Ah maybe I should-"Ísen started, but Alleria stopped him.

"No, you've got to help get Urondil to bed. I'll be back soon."

Sylvanas and Ísen stared at her for a while, then nodded and began dragging Urondil away. Alleria watched them depart for a short while, until finally turning around and practically running into the ranger's quarters, though not to where the new trainees would be. She burst the door open that led to her private squad of rangers, the ones assigned to the quel'dorei army.

Most of them looked up as she dashed in, some stood up to salute, all of them equally surprised to see their captain in their quarters at this time.

"Is there something wrong, captain?" one of them asked, a talented archer named Verana.

"To say the least," Alleria replied seriously. She gazed out over them all, and counted their numbers. She waited until she was sure that now everyone had their attention focused at her, until she spoke again. "I want all of you to pack, but pack lightly. I've been thinking about this since morning, and I think it necessary. We're going to Lordaeron."

Murmur spread between the rangers in shock and confusion. Verana walked up to her, eyes wide and insecure.

"Lordaeron? But… why, captain?"

"Not to sightsee, Verana." She gazed out over the rangers again, who now had grown quiet, awaiting her next words. "We're going to war."


	4. Something in the air

_I'm sorry if this chapter seems kinda short. _I was very set on completing this chapter as soon as I could,as loads of school work has drabbled over me of late.I actually did complete the chapter a few nights ago,but I didn't upload it until now since I was so tired at the time that I had to double check it for grammar and spelling if you find more of them,but then again,english isn't my main language!If you do find some grammar mistakes,please tell me so I can learn for the future (I don't think I'll re-upload the chapter just because of one misspelling :P)

So,Cataclysm is coming closer!I'm quite happy that some of my old favourites will play large roles,for example Malfurion Stormrage and Broll Bearmantle! (from the WoW comic,King Varian's best bud) I'd like to see more of Vereesa and Rhonin though,and somehow I think (hope) we will since they actually did meet first because of Deathwing.

Hey,here's an odd thought!Both Alleria and Vereesa have battled Deathwing at different times!That's interesting,right?But I guess you really CAN connect all characters from World of Warcraft in some way or then,enough babbling,here's the new chapter!

Enjoy,and please comment!^_^

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Chapter IV: Something in the air

The air teased cold and fresh in the early hour of the day in the village. Not many of the elves had awoken yet, and those who were awake had not yet left their homes. It was a common routine among the inhabitants of the Windrunner village to only start moving on to daily chores once the morning dew had begun to dry, were you not a hunter or a farmer who had the critters to take care of.

There was however one young man who was awake, or still awake, rather. Zendarin Windrunner had spent the past night inside his chambers, within one of the greatest residences of the village, as it was becoming of someone with his bloodline. The young elf sat down at his desk, head bent down over the parchment he was writing with his silvery hair hanging down over his shoulders. His eyes were narrowed in the dim light of the window; mostly because of the fatigue that consumed him after concentrating for so long.

Zendarin took a deep breath, leaning backwards to stretch his back, meanwhile taking an opportunity to glance at his achievement thus far. Twenty full pages concerning the magical particles of elemental spells, all for the assignment his mentor had given to him only one day earlier. Of course, he could have completed it earlier, if the subject of the paper had been another one than magical particles. What was the meaning of knowing such anyway, when it wasn't required to know in spell casting?

He grimaced, looking at the parchments that were starting to roll themselves together after being untouched for so long. Only five more to go.

Most likely anyone in his family, or maybe in the entire village, knew that Zendarin wasn't the type to take direct orders. He had been born into one of the most high- ranked bloodlines in Quel'thalas, and had never been forced to live in poverty or endure extreme torture for the sake of his family. This also meant that he probably would not have been that ambitious about his studies, and would have ignored this assignment completely, were it not for his one goal and dream.

Carrying the blood of Heriand Windrunner, his grandfather and the last head of the family, did not necessarily mean that he and his siblings were made Nobles since birth. The only ones who could carry such titles were the direct inheritors of the current leading family, namely his cousins. For he himself to reach such a position, he would have to work hard in some art of warfare and then gain a title within the Thalassian army. Then, he could finally stand on equal ground with his cousins. And perhaps it could one day mean that _he_ would be the one to inherit the leader's title of the clan.

But, as he realized, no matter how hard he worked, nothing good would ever come out of lack of sleep, especially not if you were a magician. To be able to concentrate on the magical energies of the world, and then to channel them into correct spells without causing any accidents, always required full attention. And as it was right now, he could not focus his attention on just one thing alone.

He leaned back with a heavy sigh, staring out of the window through which the morning sun's rays dove in. He needed to rest.

A knock on the door caused the young elf to nearly jump out of his chair in shock. Once he had gathered himself, he raised his voice as much as he could muster; "Yes?" His voice was slightly raspy.

"Zendarin? Are you awake yet?"

He relaxed a bit when he recognized the owner of the voice. Moving to a more comfortable position in his high- back chair, he turned so that he could face the door and be ready to greet him. "Yes, Urondil, come on in."

The door opened, and a slender, young elven man, younger than himself, entered. Like with most of Windrunners, his hair was bright and he had put it into a high pony tail today, emphasizing his blue orbs. He was dressed in dark leather pants and a green linen shirt, embroidered with silver patterns that ran over the hem of the shirt and the elbow – short sleeves. Not exactly an outfit for hunting, but for someone of his heritage, not fancy enough for a special occasion either.

The cousins exchanged a smile as they greeted each other, and Urondil took a step into the room. "Your mother told me I could find you here," he explained, and Zendarin nodded. "I just came here to ask if you were perhaps interested in joining us on a trip to Silvermoon over the day? None of us have anything better to do, so…"

"Hmm." Zendarin felt his tiredness returning to his eyelids, screaming for him to go to bed. On the other hand, he did need some materials from the capital, and he hadn't spent any time with his cousins for a long time either. It seemed as if both of his options were crucial, but perhaps that was just his tired mind speaking.

Urondil stared at him, waiting for him to answer. Glaring at the parchments that lay thrown all over his desk, Zendarin finally took a deep breath and stood up. "Well then, I guess it wouldn't hurt too much. Though I'll leave as soon as I have everything I need."

Despite his answer, Urondil brightened up and immediately started backing out of the room, encouraging his cousin to follow. "Great! We haven't been on a trip like these for some time now!"

Zendarin frowned a bit, not quite in the mood for his cheerfulness, nor in the mood to tell him off. Though having matured a lot these last years, he still recognized his cousin almost exclusively by his ever alert personality, something that he seemed to have in common with most of his siblings. Well, all except for Ísen, but he had probably been born that stiff.

They left his home and started heading throughout the village, among the residences where the inhabitants were just starting to do their morning chores. Being reminded of the other Windrunner youngsters, Zendarin asked; "How many of your siblings are coming with us?"

Urondil looked at him as he spoke, and then replied. "Well, there's Sylvanas, Vereesa and Lirath. Ísen will meet us there."

Ah. Of course he wouldn't find it that entertaining to travel with his sisters and brothers, let alone his magic- fixated cousin. Then again, they had never gotten along that well.

"By the way, you should have seen the look on Vereesa's face the other day," Urondil said, laughter almost drowning his words, having a forceful effect on Zendarin which caused him to smile as well. "We were just heading home from the river when the oldest of the Brightoak sons ran up to us, and just handed her this letter… A letter sealed with the symbol of a heart on it."

Zendarin grimaced slightly at the tackiness this story was gaining, but he continued to listen excitedly.

Urondil had to hold back his laughter as he remembered the event, and the continued. "After that, he just bowed and then ran away… We all knew what it was about, Vereesa too… But her face, oh, it was priceless!" He started laughing, and then attempted to imitate it. He pretended to blush, and furrowed his eyebrows so that he looked shocked, both negatively and positively at the same time, his mouth slightly open. This caused even Zendarin to chuckle, imagining the expression on the silver haired girl.

"Your sisters sure are popular…" he smirked, temporarily narrowing his eyes against the strong sun rays.

His cousin nodded, his laughter fading gradually. A silence had crept upon them, once an unmentioned thought had developed in their minds. Referring to all of the Windrunner sisters at once, it was impossible not to include the oldest of them, though she had been absent from the woods of Quel'thalas for some time now.

Clearing his throat, Zendarin decided that he should at least reassure that everyone in the lead- family was handling the incident smoothly. "Have you received any letters from…Alleria of late?" he asked quietly, a bit hesitating of mentioning her name.

"Ehm…" Urondil looked away, perhaps looking to avoid the question. Ever since her departure, issues regarding Alleria had been somewhat hushed or strained among the clan members. From Zendarin's point of view, perhaps that was because of the shock her relatives had been forced to deal with. She had appeared so well-mannered and responsible about her duties, and then one day, she left without a trace on no one's orders but her own. Of course the clan didn't know what to think.

A bird sang one of its native songs somewhere among the high treetops, seemingly an alarm for Urondil to awake from his thoughts. He cleared his throat, most likely to gain time enough to find a proper response.

"Truth is, actually… we must have sent her a dozen letters combined, to say the least," he said quietly, avoiding eye contact with his cousin. By 'we', Zendarin assumed he meant 'me and my siblings'. It seemed unlikely of Galéndi to have forgiven his daughter already.

"And?"

"And, well…" Urondil sighed. "She hasn't replied to a single one of them. We are not even sure that she has received a single one."

Zendarin nodded slowly. He already knew that no one outside the council of Silvermoon were exactly sure about Alleria's whereabouts. The quel'dorei army had been hostile against aiding the Lordaeron forces from the beginning, and by now, the humans themselves probably had too many issues on their hands to assure non-militants of such facts.

Time could only tell when Alleria would return to Eversong, or at least send soothing words of her safety. However, she had duties to attend to, even if they were assigned by the humans from Lordaeron. Zendarin did know his cousin well enough to be sure, that as long as orders concerned dangers that bothered her as well, she would listen and take them from anyone, even if it meant that she'd have to salute in for a dwarf, or a gnome.

Through a foggy mist that covered his thoughtful mind, he was barely aware of Urondil greeting his sisters ahead of them. Zendarin made a slight nod in acknowledgement of them, but tried to remain silent as often as possible, partially because of his lack of sleep. The other part of him, the part that became twice as alert during his weariness, recognized something else in the surroundings of the village.

He could first feel it now, but he was sure that had he paid more attention, he could have felt it the moment he left the house. Not as much as a magic energy, signifying a dark presence – but it was something very close. Something that could be just as ill-boding, if he could interpret it correctly.

He exhaled deeply. Yes, there it was. There was something in the air. Something that had spread with the wood's breeze.

An ill-boding wind.

Who could have known that she'd have to go through so much trouble to adjust to her new surroundings?

Alleria coughed, for what seemed like the fifth time only since morning. It irritated her to say the least, as it occasionally forced the Commander of the army to interrupt himself and then repeat his words. It embarrassed her, as well as slowed down their tactical meetings, which was the last thing she wanted in this moment. Better this war be done with, so that she could finally return home and reassure her family that everything was alright, for once.

She mentally rolled her eyes, not wanting any of the important army leaders of Lordaeron to have any misinterpreted signals. The air here in Southshore and in Eversong could not have _that_ much of a difference, right?

Perhaps they had not. Most likely, she only carried a slight cold or something of the sort. Which was very uncommon for elves, since their immunity against illness were not even comparable to those of the humans'. But then again, she had realized that these humans were much less capable of keeping a hygienic base camp than the elves. Not that it would be their top priority, in a situation like this one.

"So it all comes down to one point then," the Supreme Commander, Lord Anduin Lothar, said gravely. He stroked his white beard thoughtfully for a moment, his brow furrowed in angered concentration. "We are currently unable to make a move against the Horde, until any of the scouts return."

He threw a look at Alleria, who immediately stood alert, chin raised. It seemed as if his face brightened only a little, but his sudden question was as dark toned as his previous statement.

"Lady Alleria," he started, and she had to keep herself from interrupting him to tell him to stop with the titles. It was not the time right now. "In how long do you presume that your rangers will have returned here?"

She swallowed, estimating possible events and the normal speed she knew the rangers capable of. "One day, maybe two if they run into trouble."

"And by trouble you mean – "another bearded man said, although he already knew what she meant. His eyes glittered in a remarkable way for someone of his age, but she had learned to not be deceived, since Khadgar the mage was, in fact, much younger than his appearance would tell.

The Ranger Captain nodded gravely. "Yes. Orcs. But in such a case I think we would know. From what you've told me, they are not exactly experts in concealing their presences, am I right?" At their grunts of agreements, she continued. "Besides, we elves have been granted a fantastic hearing. Would they pick up any sound at all of the orcs, they would return here as soon as possible and report. That is what I've ordered them to do."

"Excellent," Lothar replied, letting up for a slight smile to her, which she returned. Then, he sighed deeply as he glanced down at the map rolled out at the wooden table before them. He stretched his neck as he seemed to think again, and then rolled the map up again. "Then that is that. We will await further reports, for the moment."

Alleria saluted him with the others inside the tactical tent, as they all departed together. The large mass of fighters streamed towards the small opening in the tent at the same time, resulting in a slight line to exit. As Alleria finally had the chance to walk outside, another man approaching from somewhere else seemed to have the same thought in mind.

Their boots momentarily touched each other, and she looked up to see his face. She narrowed her eyes as she recognized him. It was one of those young paladins that Lothar had trained. Glancing at his bright hair and his piercing eyes, she could replace his name, though barely. Turalyon or something of the like.

Upon meeting her eyes, the young paladin quickly turned away, and took a step backwards to let her through, with a quiet apology. She gave him one last, inspecting gaze before she departed.

As she started to leave the tactical tent behind herself, she could hear Khadgar exit behind the paladin, catching up to him. With her 'fantastic hearing' ability, she was able to pick up their conversation.

"Turalyon, you're bright red! Maybe you have a fever!" the young- old mage stated. She couldn't discern what the paladin answered, but after listening to him, Khadgar said; "It might be something that passes around the camp right now. Lady Alleria seemed to be contaminated with some cough earlier, as well."

The Ranger- Captain rolled her eyes, and continued walking. As if she didn't notice it. The way that Turalyon stared at her, that is. She was, after all used to it. But at least elven men could hide it.


	5. The Horde

_HI THERE!_It's been a while since I last uploaded,but well...It was partially for that reason that I decided to split this chapter into two parts. Because I just got my hands on the 'Arthas:Rise of the Lich King'-novel, I decided that I should probably take it a bit slow with the writing since the Scourge invasion and Sylvanas' death is included in it. But,we're not at the Scourge yet!So I'll probably upload a few more chapters meanwhile,and who knows,by that time maybe I've already finished reading so you won't even notice a thing! :D

But well,please enjoy:)

* * *

Chapter V: The Horde

"Are you sure you have time to wander around the city?" Kael'thas asked Sylvanas, grinning. The sunlight reflected on his golden hair, surrounding his face with an otherworldly halo. The Ranger-General smirked and pretended to roll her eyes as to hide her blushes. His beauty captivated her, over and over again.

She straightened herself as she stood up from the bench she had been seated on, as she strode up to join the prince. "Perhaps you did not notice, but I was more still than moving," she replied with a smile.

Once she had reached him, she stopped to bow in front of the prince. As soon as she stood up again, he quickly caught hold of her hand and bent down to kiss it.

She blushed again, but he didn't comment it. Instead, he offered his arm to invite her for a walk. She raised her eyebrows at him. "Are you sure that _you_ have the time to wander around the city, your majesty?"

He laughed, but they began their promenade none the less. "I guess we are both on the run from our duties then."

During the time she had gotten to know the prince, Sylvanas had learned that Kael'thas took his duties as a future regent more seriously than anything. Several times a year, he would travel to Dalaran for studies in the arts of magic, and he was also a part of the council that ruled the city. He always attended meetings concerning the well-fare of Quel'thalas, and often gave his father opinions and advice. She knew that he would be a good ruler, and she couldn't help but feel proud of him.

But, she had also come to know that when too many things would close on him at the same time, he would temporarily hide away from them, and more often than not, seek her company. As a simple noble daughter, she felt very honoured by his presence and always looked forward to his visits. And as the Ranger- General of the Thalassian army, she could at the same time understand his headaches. Work would worry her as well, but she knew that there would always be a difference.

She fingered on her bow before gazing up to answer him. "I would not call myself a runaway, your majesty. The true escapees would be the so called rangers who cannot handle a night's worth of training."

She smirked lovingly as he chuckled. It was hard for her to put a finger to the feelings she had began to host for him, but she didn't mind that, as long as she could be with him. At the same time, she knew that her brothers and Vereesa were trying to avoid the subject, but they all knew that this, this relationship could not last forever. Something was bound to happen soon – but she tried to not think about either outcome.

The clouds had taken on a reddish yellow colour as they drifted over the grey blue sky, a result to the autumn that approached Quel'thalas and its blooming forests. Leaves that shone as bright as diamonds would slowly and soundlessly fall over the couple as they strode in peace over the streets of the capital, simply enjoying the other's company. They would occasionally meet a few guards, or another elf who wandered around to finish errands. Most of the city's inhabitants seemed to have withdrawn from the streets.

Any awkwardness that had once existed in their relationship, was now gone. The couple had little difficulty in finding a conversation subject, and no matter what their words, they seemed to make the other one smile. It was a moment of happiness.

As they neared the quarter of the ranger's, sounds of arrows being fired reached their ears. They exchanged curious looks before proceeding, and soon the practicing ranger came within their view. He wore his fair hair in a high but short ponytail, and his eyes, as blue as the rest of his family's, were seriously attached to his aim; a training dummy that had been patched many times. The arrows he had fired lay spread over the ground near it, while some were deeply buried in the craters of weapons that surrounded the training area. Only a few had actually reached their goal, but unfortunately not on any of the vital points.

The young elf fired off another arrow, and cursed loudly when it shot right past the dummy's neck. An older elf stood next to him, and looked just as annoyed as his student.

"I can't do it, uncle!" cursed the young elf, turning to his elder with a defeated look on his face. Sylvanas felt herself sigh at his words, as she had heard them from him so many times before.

As she and the prince approached them, his uncle gave him a stern and strict look. "Yes you can. Now, fire again."

"But – "

"No buts, all of your siblings have already surpassed you. There is no time for you to whine and doubt yourself. Now, _fire_." The young elf groaned, his shoulders slumping forwards as he slowly turned and started readying himself for his next shoot. Then Sylvanas stopped in front of them.

"Wait just a moment, uncle," she said loudly. They both directed their gazes at her; her uncle seemed surprised to see her, and was even more shocked when the prince made a polite nod to them over her shoulder. Her brother, however, only brightened and didn't even seem to notice Kael'thas at all. She smiled widely at him. "How fares your training, Lirath?"

Her younger brother opened his mouth to talk, but their uncle interrupted him. "Not at all as I would have hoped I'm afraid, Sylvanas." Lirath's smile immediately dropped, his sudden expression a proof of the shame he was forced to face in front of his sister.

She sympathized with him internally, but didn't give any show of it as she spoke slowly with their uncle. "How do you mean? Has he not made any progress at all since he first began with archery?" She knew that even though he had made progress, it did not matter. Lirath did seem to handle the bow too slow to ever be able to qualify within the Ranger's Squad. If he did want to fight by the side of his sisters and brothers, he would have to try much harder.

Which was the exact point that her senior tried to make, but in consideration of the young elf next to him, he simply shot her a hard look, grimacing. Sylvanas sighed, but didn't answer him, nor did she counter with anything else, as would maybe have been appropriate for the Ranger General.

Instead, she strolled over to Lirath, and put one careful, gloved hand on his shoulder. He had not yet reached her height, though with the pace that he had been growing the last few seasons, the young Windrunner son's stature showed much promise. Smiling warmly, she lowered herself somewhat and made eye contact with him, knowing that both her uncle and prince Kael'thas were regarded her with curiosity. Lirath himself seemed confused in how to react at his sister's sudden move.

"Your grip is good, my brother," Sylvanas told him honestly, at which he gave a grateful nod. She continued. "But I believe that you need to focus on your aim a bit; let me see how you string the bow."

She backed away as Lirath straightened his back and withdrew one arrow from the quiver on his back. It was made in the same way as the ones she carried herself; though they lacked the quality. The Ranger's Squad would not want to waste any energy on wood crafting weapons for new beginners. From the corner of her eye, Sylvanas could see Kael'thas approaching them both, staying on a safe distance as to not disturb the young ranger.

Carefully, though slightly trembling with the knowledge of his extraordinaire audience, Lirath made the sharp end of the arrow rest above his finger tip. As soon as he had directed the edge of the arrow towards the training dummy, that had been standing useless during their short conversation, he started squinting his eyes so that his aim would improve. _Focus on your aim._

He jumped in surprise when Sylvanas reached her arms to his hands from behind him. Taking hold of his hands, that were slightly smaller than hers, she slowly led them to a more refined grip. He widened his eyes as he felt the difference immediately. He wasn't just aiming the bow anymore; he felt as if it was an extension of his arms. He straightened his face, reminding himself to focus and be sure to remember how the bow rested in his palm.

"Now," Sylvanas said quietly in his ear, "see how the tip of the arrow is pointing towards head of your target?" Lirath nodded. "Try lowering it, though only barely." She released her grip of him, letting her hands fall to her side as she stood to see how he would prevail. Lirath did as she said, and awaited further instructions. She smiled at the progress she could see him doing, as she said; "Now, stand as still as you can for a second. Be sure of the path your arrow is going to fly. And then… fire!"

Heart pounding, Lirath let go of the bowstring the second she uttered her command. He could feel his guts sink as he imagined the result of his sister's advice; he would fail again, and disappoint not only his family, but the prince as well!

He forced himself to keep his eyes open. And then he gaped.

The sibling's uncle stuttered at what he saw, partially resulting in the triumphant smirk Sylvanas was giving. The blonde prince at her side raised an eyebrow in amazement, gazing between her and her brother.

The arrow that Lirath had fired was deeply buried in the stuffing of the dummy, right between where the eyes would be on a real person. The dummy swayed as a result to the attack, and would have fallen over where it not for the strong pole that kept it in place. Still, had his victim been a living one, death would have been its certain fate.

At the sound of applauses, Lirath turned around. His sister laughed at his apparent shock, and while the prince seemed to remain stern, it was not hard to tell that even he was amused. Sylvanas went forward and gave her brother a warm and loving embrace. "See? You can do it, my sweet Lirath."

He could feel his cheeks burn, and tore away from her grip. "Stop, you're embarrassing me, sister!" he told her brusquely. She smiled at him.

Their uncle slowly approached them, also he amazed at the sudden change in progress that he had made. "Good job, Lirath. Now, continue that way, and you'll be in the Ranger's Squad in no time at all." Lirath nodded.

"Or," Kael'thas interrupted, causing the both males to jump in surprise, "you will have a reserved spot until the day that you're old enough to fight for our country. Isn't that right, Sylvanas?"

Responding to the expression that the prince was giving her, she sighed quietly and said; "Yes. Lirath, you're still too young to be in the Ranger's Squad. Uncle knows that as well, I presume?"

Her elder cleared his throat. "Well, of course, I was merely making a point…"

Sylvanas nodded, and turned to her brother. "Not that it matters. I trust that on the day that you're allowed to join with us, your strength will be tenfold. All you have to do is keep practicing, and I think it will be no trouble for you. Right?"

"Uh… I, I guess you're right," Lirath replied insecurely, and she ruffled his hair.

She straightened herself and looked to the sun to verify the time. It was nearly time for the Ranger Squad's afternoon practice, but if she could just know where her apprentices had gone off to –

A piercing scream sounded from the southern part of the capital, too loud and too horrifying to be a result of some prank. Soon, the scream was joined by more voices, raised and in terror. Sylvanas and Kael'thas exchanged looks, and started running towards the source of the noise, but didn't get far until someone shouted;

"ORCS! They're invading the city!"

The Ranger- General stopped dead in her tracks, her heartbeat increasing more by the second. Orcs? Here, in Quel'thalas? But how could they cross the borders? Her mind suddenly landed on Alleria, and she remembered why her sister had disappeared in the first place. She couldn't have… lost to them, could she?

"Sylvanas!" Kael'thas shouted, causing her to snap out of her thoughts, and she recognized the worry in his eyes, his face having gone pale. She nodded gravely, knowing what to do.

"Your majesty, get back to the Sunstrider Spire immediately! The king needs to hear about this!" Without a word, the prince rushed away from the scene, his long hair dashing behind him. Sylvanas turned to her uncle. "Run to the mage's quarters. See if you can get in contact with my father, and then assist the others." And then, she turned to leave for the source of the incident herself, thinking that she needed to contact as many rangers as she could along the way.

She caught a glimpse of movement next to her, and realized that her brother had begun to follow her. She stopped once again. "No, Lirath!"

A hint of defiance struck across his young face as he heard her strict order. "But – "

"No, you need to get somewhere safe! Go to the Sunstrider Spire, and stay there until I come to get you! Do you hear me?"

He stood quiet, trying to think of a comeback, but it was obvious what her answer would be. No matter how much he wanted to help defend the capital, their previous conversation would hold him back; he was still too young to participate in any real war. He saw the burning determination in her eyes, and knew that she would fight to exterminate any threat that would dare enter their homeland, and thus she could not keep an eye on him to save him if needed. He would be more of a nuisance than a help. So he nodded, defeated. "Yes, sister."

She didn't reply, she didn't have time to do so. With the speed of the wind, Sylvanas ran through the city, recognizing the ill-boding scent of fire as she approached the gates of Silvermoon. She prayed that no one had been injured yet…

As she turned a corner, two other elves dashed into her sight, nodding quickly in acknowledgement. Both of them were rangers from her squad, and from the direction that they had approached from, she realized that they must have come directly from the northern towers, which stood directly near the Sunstrider Spire.

"Did you see what happened?" she asked as they ran. From the corner of her eye, she saw two more rangers join up with them.

One of them shook their head. "It was hard to see, even from the tower. They appear to have green skin!"

"What?" Sylvanas asked in disbelief, but this was not the time to question her ranger's sight- ability. Instead she nodded. "Do you have any information on what kind of weapons they wield?"

"Huge… close-distance weapons. Axes and poles. Not of any crafting type that I've ever seen."

Sylvanas growled in frustration, but on the other hand, this would give an advantage to her rangers. They would now be able to attack from a safe distance. But, they would still need to evacuate the citizens. And she was still missing more than half of her squad.

As if sensing her thoughts, the ranger replied; "I think the others have already arrived at the gate, General."

"Right," Sylvanas said. They could now sight the gates, and indeed, a huge number of citizens were running into the city in panic. Yet the outer wall didn't seem to carry any damage… for now. She stopped by the foot of the wall, and started shouting orders to her rangers. "Get out there and evacuate those who you can! Assist the others; we must not let them reach into the city!" She raised her bow. "For Quel'thalas!"

A chorus of voices repeated her words as they dashed out through the gates. "For Quel'thalas!"

Sylvanas turned to the wall and began to climb; she used whatever help from various bricks or roofs from the lined up buildings she could get as she approached the top of the wall with an impressive speed. She didn't have time to rush to the stairs, and she needed to get a clear over- view on what was happening.

And what she saw caused her to scream in sorrow.

Fires, devastating flames were feeding upon the trees of her beloved homeland. She knew that before she and her rangers could get into the forests and put a stop to them, they would have grown bigger with the help of the tall trees, and soon they would reach Silvermoon. They needed to prevent that.

She turned angrily to the rangers and mages who stood up on the wall with her, and shouted; "Any magic-wielder will go down there and put a stop to fires. Rangers, come with me!"

She needed as many archers as she could. For now, she saw them; the orcs. Huge, green and more monstrous than she had ever imagined – these were what her sister had set out to exterminate, and prevent from reaching Quel'thalas. Then why were they here? Had she underestimated their powers and gotten herself slain? Or had Silvermoon underestimated her calculations and failed to take this threat seriously?

Tucking her bow behind her, Sylvanas jumped up on the wall and then let herself fall down until she swiftly reached the ground below, and she breathed out in relief when she saw that the Horde had not yet reached the gates. But if they did not hurry, it would only be a matter of time.

She started running, and her rangers followed. They had practiced long for moving at this speed, and now it paid off. Sylvanas had calculated her assisters to be about ten right now, but she would need the full Ranger's Squad. Where were they? Perhaps they had already set out into the forest, the minute they saw the fires?

But if that were the case, Sylvanas knew that there was a risk that she was too late. If the orcs had brought the trolls, those ancient monsters that had bothered and hated the elves for as long as they had been in Quel'thalas… She knew that the trolls had a great ability in stealth and often stalked their preys. Were it any of the younger and more inexperienced rangers that had set out, they were already beyond saving.

They moved swiftly between the trees, shifting and turning with ease through the forest that they had all grown up with. The orcs did not know how the hidden paths of the forest went, nor did they have the swiftness that the rangers possessed, as they were prevented by their weight of muscles. But, as Sylvanas feared, the Horde could just as well cut down the trees that stood in their way, just as they didn't hesitate a moment in setting the trees alight.

They sprinted across a river, and up over a hill. The Ranger- General stopped, and sniffed in the air. The fires were close, but did they have time to try and stop them? She flinched as one of her rangers touched her shoulder, and then pointed down, below them. A heavy and crude movement caused her to drop down to the grass, and her rangers did the same. Some of them quietly and almost unnoticeably crawled away from the group, as to get a better view. They exchanged looks with Sylvanas, who gave them a slight nod.

She was impressed in their skill at stealth; not one sound was heard as they took themselves over the grass, never really touching it. Soundlessly, they both lifted their bows and prepared an arrow each.

As they adjusted their aim, the orc stopped dead in his tracks, and Sylvanas feared that he sensed what was happening. She shot a glance towards the rangers, trying to tell them to fire before he turned around; if he noticed them before his fall, he might still have a chance at signalling his brethren. She just hoped that this one had set out to scout alone, because if there were more of them here, it would be the elves that were ambushed…

She held back a gasp as the orc started to turn his head and he was nearly looking directly at her, causing her to grab her bow instinctively, as one of the rangers fired. The arrow hit him in the throat, and he gurgled loudly in shock as he tried holding the wound, when the other arrow hit him in the forehead, and he fell over.

Sylvanas cursed; even if the other orcs didn't hear his exclamation, there was a chance that they heard the sound of him hitting the ground. The attacking rangers rushed forward to examine the body, but before the others could join them, the Ranger- General motioned for them to stop. She listened.

It was amazing how the birds could continue to sing even as this was happening, and how the leaves could continue to dance even as the forest was burning. She heard the fire crackling not too far away, and distant shouting that could only belong to the orcs. They had found their new destination.

She swung herself down to the others and awaited their conclusion of the body. "Strong armour, but poorly protected," the female one of them said as she touched the target's chest plate with her arrow, which she had torn free from the gaping wound in his head. She attempted to drive the head of the arrow through the chest plate, but it was rejected.

Sylvanas pressed her lips together. "Well…" she started. "We'll continue like this; aim for their heads and throats. If you need to, pierce their legs to prevent them from running. They appear to be slow runners as it is, anyway."

They nodded and she turned, readying herself to dash out again. But as she swirled around, she made direct eye contact with another orc; and he was not alone. All together, there were three of them, all just as heavy-built as their fallen friend. They gazed at his corpse, and snarled in rage, lifting their axes. They charged directly towards the group of elves.

Taking immediate action, Sylvanas lifted an arrow and strung it, firing it off within a second. The first arrow hit one of the orcs between the eyes, and he fell over. Three arrows by her rangers followed, hitting the first orc in the throat and his guts, that didn't carry any protection. The last orc seemed to hesitate a moment, but continued to charge.

Sylvanas got ready to draw her sword, since he was to close for her to fire another arrow. Just as she landed her fingers on the handle, the approaching orc stiffened, put to death by one of her apprentices.

Gazing back at him to thank him, he gave her a grave nod and then strung another arrow, just in case. "We need to hurry, General."

"Yes," Sylvanas replied, and they set out once again.


	6. Darkened blood

_Now this took a while..._I've drowned in school work but now that things are calming down I got the chance to finish this :) And OMG CATACLYSM! O.O Have not encountered Sylvanas so much in the new expansion,but from the worgen storyline,she really seems to have turned out into quite the b**ch. I want Alleria to come back...

This and the previous chapter was from the beginning planned to be one and the same,but it became to long and I wanted to include so much so I had to split it :/ Well,please enjoy it anyway!

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Chapter VI: Darkened blood

Vereesa was lying flat on her stomach against the moist bark of a tall tree, peering down at the brute intruders while focusing with all her might on not making a sound. The two orcs seemed to be caught in a deep discussion; at least she assumed so, not being able to make out a word from their harsh language.

She had her bow and arrows, and two daggers tucked away underneath her leather vest, still she knew better than to charge the orcs, even from an ambush. There were two of them, and they were muscular, clamorous and larger. She was alone and wouldn't, despite her swiftness, be able to take them both on; she still lacked that ability which she was convinced that Sylvanas had.

Therefore, she tried her best into melting into the tree while observing their movements. It had come as a shock to her, when the brute creatures stormed the land during her daily tour of the woods. She didn't know if they had reached the capital yet, but she told herself that despite their strength, they could never breach Silvermoon's defences. As she watched the two orcs shout at each other, she focused on memorizing their moving patterns and tried to look for weaknesses in their armour – perhaps it could be useful to the Ranger's Squad, once she got back.

The larger one of the orcs made a sudden grunt, loud enough to be a threat, which Vereesa also assumed it was since the smaller one shrugged back and gruffly trotted away, his steps growing weaker and weaker.

Vereesa shifted as to get a clearer view of the one left behind, to see if he showed any intentions of leaving as well. The green brute glared after his comrade, confirming her theory. She prayed internally that he would keep going, but he sure seemed to take his time studying his surroundings. What use would they have of knowledge of nature anyway? Judging from the sounds she had heard and the smell of fire, they sure didn't seem to hesitate in wiping the woods out.

When at last he seemed to leave, Vereesa leaned out even further to watch him disappear, and thus created an unforeseen cracking sound from the tree. She held back a gasp and pressed herself downwards again, her heart beating hard from the surprise. From her limited view, she saw the orc swirl around in search for the cause of the sound. At first, he only surveyed whatever was in eye-level, but soon his gaze turned upwards and he blinked into the sunlight which peered down through the tree's leaves.

Vereesa had never been so terrified in her entire life. She wasn't sure that she was able to take a full-grown orc on by herself, if she was discovered. But even if she managed to injure him enough to take an advantage or have a chance at escape, she had no doubt that she would get hurt as well, and that would mean that she would be of no use to the others, should she reach the capital in time. She pressed her face down into the bark, hoping that her pale skin would be less visible.

He sniffed into the air for a short while. To the elf, it seemed ridiculous since his smell probably was even worse than a pigeon's. His own stench probably drowned any other odor as well; she could sense it even from her position among the treetops.

For one short moment, she thought that he stared directly at her. He then turned away his gaze, and clumsily jogged away from the place. She waited for a while until she was sure that he wouldn't come back, and then slowly climbed down from her hiding spot. While trying to recuperate from the sudden incident, she squatted down to the grass as to reduce her risk at being spotted.

The sound of someone moving to the right reached her ears, and she braced herself, ready to jump up into the tree again if it were another orc. But compared to the previous intruders, the new stranger moved with steps far too light to come from an orc. Did the Horde have recruits from races unknown to the quel'dorei? Was it one of the trolls that had long since irritated their kingdom?

Calculating the stranger's body mass to be about the same as her own, Vereesa decided to take a risk and move in for an ambush. Her heart thumped loudly, but she knew that whoever her target was wouldn't hear it. She crouched down among the green and red- coloured bushes and drew one arrow which she strung to her bow. She only hoped that the bird song and distant fire crackling sounds would cover her approach.

She leaned herself against a tree's white bark, and realized that she had underestimated her hearing. The intruder wasn't even nearby yet, but moving towards her at great speed. Still, she could tell that the person was swift and matched her agility, and so she hoped that she would be able to take him – or her – down at the right moment.

The elven ranger waited. Her target grew nearer, their breath louder… She was tempted at firing her arrow right away, but reminded herself of Sylvanas' lecture, that best know your target before carelessly shooting. Not only could you mistakenly hit a comrade, but also give away your position too soon without really causing any damage.

She held herself back for a few more seconds, until she was sure that the intruder was closer than one foot away. She jumped out from her hiding spot.

Her arrow pointed straight at the face of the runner, who stared at her in shock and fright. A few seconds passed for them both to register the sudden movement, when Vereesa started to study her target.

Golden hair fell down over slim shoulders, from underneath a green-coloured, stained cloak similar to her own. Her armour was worn yet recognizable as the one mostly worn in the Ranger's Squad, and the widened emerald eyes were her final proof. Realization crept upon them both.

"Vereesa?" she said with an all-too familiar voice, almost causing tears to form in her eyes.

The young ranger lowered her bow, not daring to believe it. "Alleria?" The name almost felt strange in her mouth, not having been used to her sister directly in so long. Smiles burst upon their faces, and half a second later the siblings were united in an embrace. "You're home!" Vereesa whispered in relief.

"Of course," the oldest of the Windrunner daughters said, gently stroking her head, now bare from the hood that had fallen back from the sudden movement. Such a gesture of comfort – for a moment, Vereesa thought that they were back to a summer day, long ago.

A moment later, Alleria took a hold of her shoulders and held her in front of her. "Are you alright?" she asked unsmilingly. When Vereesa nodded, she continued on with questions that seemed to have been engraved on her mind for far too long. "Where's Sylvanas? Are mother and father safe?"

"They're fine," Vereesa assured as she picked up the bow she had thrown to the ground. Reminded of their family, she stared wondering about their safety as well. "Sylvanas is with a hunting party near the riverbank. As for mother and father, they should be in Silvermoon by now. They went to consult with the elders."

She restrung her bow, and they both stood still for a moment. It seemed as if they shared the very same thought, up brought by the smell of fire. Vereesa stared at her sister, almost accusingly. "Alleria, where have you been? And what's going on? There are fires! All over Quel'thalas! And some of the other rangers – they haven't reported back."

Shock and guilt spread over Alleria's face, and she stared into the ground to take in her words. Vereesa wanted to push her answers, but realized that she should let her sister take a moment to recuperate after such a sudden return to her homeland – near ruin.

"We're being invaded, little sister," she said at last, quietly yet clearly. Vereesa gaped and wanted to press for more information, before she was interrupted. Alleria harshly turned her back to her and straightened her shoulders, as if building up a defence wall around her sister. "Now quiet." She raised her sword and Vereesa thought she could almost hear a growl escape her lips.

"Quiet? But why – "

The next second, a tall and dark figure leaped at them from behind the bushes. Vereesa had been unaware of its presence, and therefore stared in shock as Alleria battled it with rage and ease. She didn't seem surprised over its arrival at all – she had probably known that it was there.

Backing away from the slaughter, Vereesa wondered if it was one of the orcs from before, but then noticed the long fangs which jutted up from its lips. A troll.

Alleria finished the intruder off quickly, and swirled around to tug at her sister's arm. "Quick! We need to move! Now!"

Vereesa threw one final, horrified glance at the dead troll, and then nodded, following her sister's motions. She didn't know where she was going, but relied on her to know what to do. Every few seconds, the elder Windrunner daughter would throw a look at her over her shoulder, maybe to make sure that she was still with her. Vereesa had never seen her sister in battle before – she had hardly even seen someone die – and because of that she felt cold shivers travel down her spine as Alleria harshly glanced around, bow ready for the next attack. Vereesa followed her example, though less sure of her own capacity.

And then she heard it. Laughter. Troll laughter. She turned her face upwards, trying to get a notion of where they lurked. They were watching her. They planned to kill her. The knowledge made her want to scream.

In her state of panic, Vereesa could do nothing else but follow her sister's steps. Alleria seemed to know their destination, but was also aware of their pursuers. Hoping to lose them, they twisted and turned and took long detours, all succeeding because of their familiarity with the woods.

Vereesa was used to chasing Alleria; during late summer evenings when the game had gone on for a while, she would exhaustedly beg her sister to slow down for a while. This time, the horrifying laughter that fell down upon them made her want to ask her to speed up even more. And she did.

After darting in circles between the trees for what seemed like forever, Alleria made a sudden dash to the right, and Vereesa followed. She soon saw what made her sister change directions, and understood her intent. The Elrendar river gleamed in the sunlight, peaceful as if unaware of the havoc that had burst upon its surroundings, the water gently falling over the rocks towards its secret goal.

And trolls hated the water.

She felt them behind her – they had left their coverage among the leaves, and continued their pursuit on the ground. With her breath stuck in her throat, she watched as the riverbank grew closer over the cliff's edge, and then jumped.

From the corner of her eye, she saw how Alleria jumped as well, her sword drawn already to fight of the trolls who had finally caught up to them. She heard one of the slimy creatures yell something to them, but she didn't catch the exact words. Her eyes widened as one of them caught Alleria's hair, ripping several strands from her head as Vereesa landed on the soft grass.

The young ranger raised her own dagger in fury, but the second she turned around, there was no one left for her to fight – the final arrow hit its target and brought the troll to the ground. She threw a look at Alleria, who stood just as surprised as her. They turned around.

A party of rangers stood gathered on the other side of the river, most of them with newly fired bows. Prominently positioned in front of them, a green cloak partially covering her face, stood Sylvanas. The Ranger- General threw the hood back, revealing a broad smile as she recognized her sisters. She raised her bow in a greeting.

"Welcome home, Alleria!" she shouted. "Now what is this trouble you have brought us?" Her voice was loud and filled only slightly with an intensive tone – as the leader of the quel'dorei rangers her duty was to gather information as soon as possible, no matter the circumstances.

Alleria turned fully to face her sister, smiling widely upon seeing her safe. "I did not bring it, Sylvanas," she called back. "I had hoped to outrun it. But I do bring possible salvation."

Vereesa glanced hesitantly between her siblings and the corpses of the repulsive trolls, feeling nausea sweep over her as she examined them more closely. Their eyes were still open, unseeing, and some had their mouths widened in a last battle yell. She squatted down to keep her calm, turning away from the disgusting corpses with a hand over her mouth.

It was too much for her to handle. She had known that something was happening, that was why Alleria left – but that only concerned the outside world. So why had it come to Quel'thalas? How could they have breached the magical borders? Where they no longer safe?

She recalled her position the minute the Horde first appeared, earlier that day – calmly walking by the riverside when yells shot through to her from everywhere. In the next minute, rangers burst out through the forest and ordered her to seek protection within the capital. There was no way she could do such a thing – not when Sylvanas had been out there.

She felt a hand to her shoulder, and snapped out of her thoughts to gaze up at the second Windrunner daughter. Sylvanas gave her a worried and sympathetic look, as her rangers carefully crept between the remains of the trolls. "Are you alright?" she asked gravely.

Vereesa nodded slowly, but then shot up. The river flew untouched by the brute intruders, but the fires continued somewhere beyond it. Alleria was gone, nowhere to be seen. Sylvanas followed her gaze, and said;

"She went to negotiate with the council. I said it might be hard; they're very narrow-minded when it comes to their own decisions. But she wanted to try."

Vereesa frowned a bit in worry. She wondered if her sister, despite her strength and experiences from the world outside, could convince the king to move out their forces for a full-bodied attack. She glanced around at the forests around them. Their beloved trees set to fire by heartless brutes.

She _had_ to.

After firing off yet another arrow at an orc who ran at him with what seemed like no planned tactic at all, Ísen cried out before ripping it off him and restringing it to his bow, prepared for the next attack. His upper arms were starting to hurt after the long combat, but he had to hold out. The lines of attackers were beginning to thin out, the orcs being no match of course to the proud quel'dorei archers.

The oldest Windrunner child turned his neck, trying to catch another glimpse of his sister. The Ranger- General stood highly placed on a hill, able to get a full view of the scene while having an extraordinaire opportunity at firing at her enemies. Once in a while, she would signal him to different commands; moving further south, aiding the front-attackers, surveying the attackers.

He was glad that his younger sister had such control over the situation. He doubted that he himself could have led the rangers to such an advantage over the orcs, even if he tried. Sylvanas was more suited for leading the troops, while he felt more useful giving out commands among the fighters on the field. It was simpler for him. He wasn't at all jealous of his sister's rise above him.

Oh well, maybe a little.

Another orc fell, and he turned to Sylvanas again. He frowned as he noticed a difference in her posture; squatted down to converse with someone he couldn't really see. The figure disappeared before he had the time to approach, and as Sylvanas noticed his gaze, she gave him a quick sign for fall-back with her free hand.

Ísen nodded, calling out to the near rangers who would spread the word to the front-lines as he chased after his sister. As he caught up to her, she had already burst into a fast sprint. "New plans?" he asked, expecting a detailed explanation of her actions.

Sylvanas threw him a look as they ran; now reaching the woods. "We've defeated the ones here – we're needed elsewhere now."

"By who?" Ísen demanded sharply, sensing that she was hiding something from him.

She smirked at him, swirling around a tree which caused him to follow in confusion. "Alleria herself." He gaped, causing her to laugh at his dumb expression. Excitement bubbled up inside him, as he came to the full realization; Alleria was back in Quel'thalas.

Sylvanas then turned serious. "She told me that the Horde has moved to the southeast edge, and the Alliance forces are holding them off there. We have to aid them as soon as we can."

Ísen nodded. He glanced back over his shoulder, to the rangers who sprinted after them with their full might. Some were injured, but not too severely. He frowned as he was reminded of something very important. "Where is Vereesa? And Urondil?"

"I sent Vereesa back to the capital with one of my best stealth- hunters," Sylvanas explained as they leaped over a small river. "She protested, but I can't run around worrying for her well-being while battling these savages." He could hear how she gritted her teeth in frustration, and agreed with every word she said. "Urondil… I don't know. Last I heard from him, he was back in Silvermoon."

Ísen both breathed out and felt his heart beat harder at the answer. In Silvermoon, they should all be safe, but what if his brother had left to aid the front-lines? He tried to shake the thought of him, but the possibility remained.


	7. The last farewell

_PLEASE FORGIVE MY LAZINESS! _I've been working on a personal project for a while, as well as drowning in the final school work. As soon as I started writing on this chapter, I tried to finish it as soon as possible. I'm a bit sad to admit that I'm also currently suffering from writer's block. It's frustrating,since I've never had it before - just art block,but those are more easily cured. I don't know,words just don't want to come out the way they used to...Q.Q Please bear with me and I promise it gets better soon,okay? D'=

I've included parts of conversations from 'Tides of Darkness' by Aaron Rosenberg, rewritten from Sylvanas' point of view. I tried to avoid using conversation from the book as much as possible, since it IS my fanfiction, but on some places I needed to so that you would easier follow what was happening. I don't think this will happen more times, though.

Meanwhile,I've finished Arthas:Rise of the Lich King and started reading Stormrage by Richard A. Knaak. It's not a good book. I mean,I'm reading it and enjoying it because I'm a lore nerd and squeel only by the fact that Malfurion's back in the game,but...it's kinda boring. So,how are you enjoying Cataclysm? :D

Please enjoy this and I promise next chapter won't take so long!

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_Chapter VII: The last farewell_

Fury wasn't even close to describing Urondil's feelings.

Before his very eyes, Quel'thalas, his homeland, his _birth-place_, the forests which had sheltered his childhood, were burning. The trees were crumbling and he knew that it would only be a question of time before they turned to ash. The scent of burnt wood caused his insides to twist, and he had to close his eyes to hold the tears back.

"Urondil! Don't let it get to you!" one of his comrades shouted from further down the barricade, and he nodded, mostly to help her keep her own courage in place. They were all, after all, struggling to not fall simply of this nightmarish sight.

His powers were close to drained, both magic and endurance alike. He had never pushed himself this far before, and had never trained for a similar situation either – how could he possibly have known that the kingdom's walls would be breached?

Firing off another spell against the orcs below the city's walls, he let out a frustrated battle cry to express all of his feelings. He partially hoped that merely its sound would cause them to back down.

What WERE they? Green-skinned, large, brute… They were like no other creatures he had ever seen, even more monstrous than the forest trolls which crept and lurked in their beloved woods. And now they were here, like risen from the most bizarre of nightmares. Yes, that was what it was; just a horrible nightmare, which he would soon wake from.

The ground started shaking, and Urondil hung on to the wall's edge to stop himself from falling down. His exhaustion developed into a headache that made him want to pass out from the pressure. He stopped himself, looking to his shouting magician comrades who all struggled to keep themselves on their feet. He took a deep breath and begun heaving himself up, when he realized that it couldn't possibly be the orcs which caused such an earthquake – had they possessed such strength, they would have used it much, much sooner.

A piercing roar erupted through the chaos, and Urondil's blood froze. He turned his face to the sky, not wanting to believe what he already knew...

Dragons. Huge, red, furious leviathans which threw themselves over the battlefields, commanded by the orcs to deepen their victory. He watched in horror as several of them revived the flames of the forests by merely exhaling their fiery breaths.

This was _just_ a nightmare. It _had_ to be.

He clung to the edge, staring down at the warriors who desperately tried to overcome the impossible. They were dying, and with them Silvermoon.

"Urondil!" he heard a shrill, terrified voice. He looked at his youngest sister with tearful eyes, reflecting her own face. She was out of breath, as if she had run throughout the entire woods to reach safety in the capital. But what 'safety' was there?

She clung to his robes. "We have to do something! We **can't** let it end this way, we can't!" she cried. Her tears smeared out the dirt on her face, most likely acquired from the ashes that engulfed their once so pure air.

"And we won't!"

The siblings turned to look at a tall elf that had just entered the scene, his robes fluttering from the wind rendered from the havoc. The family common golden hairs swept over his face, perhaps due to the energy he radiated, revealing his narrowed, intense, hatred-filled eyes, fixated on the red beasts. His hands rose, working on a spell which he silently, but louder and louder sung.

And in a matter of seconds, Vereesa and Urondil got the answer to just why their father was Galéndi Windrunner – arch mage of Silvermoon.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

* * *

"This isn't right!" Sylvanas yelled over the roars of the mighty dragons above. "Why would they lower themselves as much as to serve a lesser race?"

Her rangers focused to keep their formations while avoiding their fatal flames and dodging the orcs on ground. She frowned as one of the brute creatures swung a club at her, which she ducked for and then delivered a forceful kick in the middle of his bare stomach. His painful grunt was cut short by her long-sword in his throat, which she pulled out as soon as the body fell down. Between every turn she made, she threw a look back at the darkened sky, so she could be sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. But no, they remained.

"We're being pushed back!" one of her rangers yelled, firing another arrow towards the orcs manoeuvring the leviathans. Insecurity and the life-long respect of the ancient guardians kept her from even attempting to wound the beast itself.

"Less talk, more working!" Ísen yelled back at her, but his eyes met Sylvanas'. How could they even think that they would win against dragons? Even with the not one second too late aid from the gryphon-borne dwarfs, a faction whose loyalty this Alliance had also gained, it seemed like the odds were against them.

The Ranger-General bit her lip, and motioned for Ísen to turn back to the battle. They couldn't afford losing another minute to unprofessional chatter, discussing their possibilities at surviving. Of course they would make it. Alleria was with them now, after all. She hadn't been reunited with her sister only to be torn from life so shortly afterwards.

She snapped out of her thoughts as she saw another hand signal to her far right, and recognized Halduron's face as the signaller. She responded to him quickly by throwing her hand up in the air, and then acknowledged his request for her to come over. She hastily turned to her brother.

"I'm leaving our efforts here to you, Ísen, is that clear?" she said seriously. The oldest Windrunner child stretched his neck to better view the situation, and as his eyes fell upon their ranger comrade, he nodded. She smiled at him as she dashed over the almost burnt-up ground towards Halduron, leaving the dire situation in trusted hands.

Upon her approach, Halduron had already dispatched his squad of archers to aid their cause. He quickly scanned her as she slowed down, clearly looking for any sort of grave injuries. She sighed at him, but appreciated his worry.

"I trust Alleria's word reached you as well?" he asked, his usually joyful tone gone.

She nodded, sending a nervous eye towards a group of soldiers who had banded together against an ogre – another horrifying creature brought by the orcs. "Anything to report of the forest activity?"

"Fortunately all wildlife seems to have escaped the fires," Halduron replied, and she managed to breath out a little. "However, we were ambushed by trolls," he finished, his voice dark with hatred.

Sylvanas felt her heart sink, as his report only strengthened what suspicions she had gotten upon her reunion with Alleria. The forest-trolls really had left their hideout, to lead a new attack against their empire. She didn't doubt for a second that she had the orcs to thank for this.

She let out a frustrated grunt, scratching at the back of her head in stress. Her friend made an attempt to calm her down by putting a soothing hand on her armour- clad shoulder. He stared into her eyes, gaining her attention. "We'll get through this," he told her. "We are unstoppable."

The ranger-general smiled at his comfort. "I know. Thank you." He returned her smile, before turning back to the battle surrounding them. She took a deep breath, staring up at the skies. The dragons circled above the tree-tops like falcons before diving in on their prey, only partially disturbed by the pursuing gryphon-stalkers. Their beloved forests. Burning like the wood in the fireplace.

Her eyes then widened, as she realized how far the fires had spread, the flames building up a strong wall of heat which separated them from their combating comrades on the other side. That wall ran just between themselves and Silvermoon itself. She put a gloved hand to her mouth trying to hold back the sobs. She had to remain steady as the general; it wouldn't do to let her rangers mirror her feelings, but…

'Vereesa…' she thought, heartbroken. 'Lirath, Urondil, father, mother… Kael'thas…' She didn't doubt that the prince was defending the capital from ruin on his own, but tears burnt at her eyelids every second she pictured her loved ones shut inside a place where she could not reach them.

Her eyes travelled over the devastated land, until they stopped at a familiar figure, standing with two of the human soldiers who she had barely seen scattered over the battle-field. They were both mounted on horses, one of them carrying a great hammer at his side; the other most likely a mage, with robes familiar to those of any magi-wielder she had ever seen. Though they seemed like an odd duo, Alleria apparently trusted them. This meant, she did too.

Readying herself for a diplomatic introduction, she dismissed Halduron and approached the group. She was beaten by another familiar figure; hair that was silvery blonde in a high ponytail, a graceful and fully practical armour covering his body, with a long sword hanging at his side. The green cloak fluttering behind him was the final signature that made Sylvanas recognize him, and sigh in relief that Lor'themar Theron at least looked like he was unharmed.

As Alleria turned in acknowledgment towards them both, Sylvanas felt something tug within her chest. Her sister's cheeks were puffy and red, and her eyes glossy. Had she been crying? She frowned.

"Lor'themar Theron, one of our finest rangers," Alleria introduced to the human men on the horses. Her face brightened as her eyes met with her sister's. "And this is my sister; Sylvanas Windrunner, ranger-general and commander of our forces. Sylvanas, Lord Theron, this is Sir Turalyon of the Silver Hand, second in command of the Alliance forces. And Khadgar of Dalaran, mage."

The one named Turalyon nodded deeply in respect, a gesture Sylvanas returned. She kept back a frown of suspicion, sensing how her sister's tone had varied from the two men's introductions. 'Second in command?' Then where was the first in command? Were the Alliance soldiers here on her home grounds really led by a youngling who looked like he had never used a weapon before? And though she respected his position, she found it odd that there was nothing more said of this Khadgar than his occupation.

Though listening carefully at Lor'themar's words as he talked to the men, she allowed herself to study the mage closer. A human so old… what was it that made him look so young and full of energy, even more so than the baby soldier?

"But we cannot linger on such thoughts," Lor'themar said grimly, a determination made of steel deeply embedded in his voice. He referred to the dark fears they all carried, created by the looming dragons above. That they would all die. He continued. "We are here, and we must do what we can to succor our people as quickly as possible."

Sylvanas took over, looking directly at the second in command. "Your commander, Anduin Lothar, sent word to us once before, asking for our participation in this Alliance. My leaders chose not to respond beyond a token show of support," she said, remembering her foolish mockery words now seemingly so long ago.

"Though some of our rangers took it upon themselves to lend aid to your cause," she continued, smirking slightly at Alleria who looked away in embarrassment. She turned grave again. "But my elders realized their error when the trolls and orcs invaded our lands. For if Quel'thalas is not safe from incursion, what is? They ordered me to assemble our warriors and march to meet you, and to render such aid as we could. We would be proud to join your alliance, Sir Turalyon, and I hope our deeds henceforth will compensate for the tardiness of our involvement." She bowed.

The soldier finally spoke, but with an insecurity hinting at his voice. As would be expected, she thought. "I thank you, and your people," he said. "We welcome you and all your kin into our Alliance. Together we will drive the Horde from this continent, from your lands and ours, that we may afterward live in peace and cooperation once again."

Sylvanas nodded approvingly. Perhaps he did possess the qualities of a leader, after all. A loud squawk was heard from above, followed by strong gusts of wind that tug at her cape and hair, resulting in her reaching for her long-sword in fear that a dragon had charged in on the group.

But before she had managed to turn her gaze upward, a feather-clad beast, much, much less the size of a dragon landed on the ground between her and the humans. As her shock began to settle down, she recognized it for its eagle head and leonine body as a gryphon, a legendary and respected creature tamed by the dwarfs for flight. And surely, the creature's rider was one of the short, broad-built men himself. Sylvanas had never seen him before, but from her sister's and the soldiers' reactions, she assumed that he was a close friend.

The dwarf's face was gloomy, as he settled on the ground. "Sorry, lad," he said dejectedly. "We tried, but those dragons are simply too big and too powerful for the handful o' us to face. Give us time and we'll be finding a way to face them in the sky and beat them down, but right now they've got the upper hand."

Sylvanas frowned, and she could see the rest of the group did too. She exchanged a grim look with Lor'themar, sighing, as she now realized that the one hope of facing the massive leviathans they had was perhaps gone. She closed her eyes, and tried to focus on positive thinking; how could she ever have gotten this adverse just by entering battle? How truly shameful it was for her, the ranger-general of all people, to realize that she had gotten too used to peace – too lost in the harmony of love and joy to consider the hardships her sister was dealing through.

She looked up, to find that Alleria had been staring at her concernedly. She wanted to smile at her, but the graveness surrounding her prevented her from doing just that. Alleria's mouth thinned and her brow furrowed in a determined or approving manner. As if telling her that crying would be for naught. She already knew that. But having her older sister remind her of it loosened up worries.

While listening to the group discuss their next move, based on the most obvious plans the Horde might consider, Sylvanas also kept an eye on the battle that continued to fare around them. She was relieved to see that Ísen was keeping the ranger squad together, banding them together against yet another of the ogres – this one having two heads, even. Her grip of her bow tightened as the ogre launched an arcane bolt after her brother, which he fortunately evaded by simply ducking. She turned back to Turalyon as he spoke. They had reached a decision.

"From Lordaeron they could spread down across the rest of the continent," Alleria said, facing the soldier. "And if they left a force here they would have two points of origin. They could blanket the land with orcs in weeks."

"Now we know what they are planning," Turalyon said as he nodded at her. "Which means we have to find a way to stop them." He looked up briefly as a soldier cried out in the background. "But not here. Get the men back into the hills proper, and we will meet and discuss this further."

He turned his horse around as Alleria saluted his orders, and rode off with the mage close behind. The older Windrunner daughter looked back at her friends, who both stood tall. The two sisters looked at each other in silence, when Lor'themar interrupted them.

"Your orders, milady?"

"Gather up your own, Halduron's and Amaradia's squads, and tell of our decisions. I trust Alleria to govern you as you depart." She faced her sister at the last part, who nodded. "The rest remain with me to make sure we get this orc mess cleaned up."

"Understood." Lor'themar bowed and left, half- running towards the scattered rangers.

The minute they were left alone, Alleria embraced Sylvanas tightly, before she even had the time to react. As she regained herself, she smiled and hugged her back. It felt strange to hold her so close after so long, without knowledge if they would ever be so close again. This could be the last time they met.

Tears started to burn under eyelids again, but she held them back. Of course they would meet again. She heard her sister inhale deeply before backing out of the embrace, maintaining a strong face. Silence passed, but in itself expressing all that needed to be said.

"Shorel'aran, sister," she said quietly.

Sylvanas nodded. "Shorel'aran."

Alleria lingered another moment, staring into the ground, before finally turning away and running after Lor'themar to gather up their forces. Sylvanas couldn't help but stare long after her, trying to memorize her disappearing form. She took a deep breath, and then turned away, returning as the ranger-general of Quel'thalas. With their new-found help of the Alliance, this Horde threat would perish from their beautiful forests.


	8. Young Lirath Windrunner

_Here it is,_the chapter in which we get to know Lirath a bit more...This was intended to be short from the beginning :P

Please enjoy and review...:)

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Chapter VIII: Young Lirath Windrunner

Fury bubbled inside of Lirath Windrunner, third son and sixth child of lord Galéndi Windrunner, as he walked home that evening.

His arms ached after a long day of archery training, which afterwards didn't seem to have accomplished anything, and the words of his trainer still burned on his mind. _'You will never surpass your brothers and sisters. You lack their mastery of the bow, whereof one is not even ranger. _He knew that himself. He did not need anyone to put it in his face.

The trainer had told him that he could still improve his skills, if he only kept on training - there was after all still a long time until he was of age to join the Ranger's Squad. A group of rangers commanded by none other than his own sister.

His fist clenched around the grip of his bow, which dangled to his side as he walked along the road leading up to his home. Being the last one born in the Windrunner clan, Lirath was always babied by his family and looked down upon by his elders. It needn't be said that he was unessential to the progress of the family's reputation; after all, what did he have left to do when one of his sisters was a hero of the Alliance, the second the ranger-general of Quel'thalas and his older brother an uprising archmage of Dalaran?

To summarize it, his existence mattered very little.

The lump in his stomach felt heavier, and he forced himself to take a deep breath as a method of controlling his anger. Rather, it only spurned it on further. But he was not worthless. He was intelligent and far more well-trained than the other elves his age. He _was_ skilled with the bow, Sylvanas had told him so herself. Then again, he could not help but realize that her words at that time had been nothing but a lie from her side.

The faint sound of a spring bird reached his ears, and he snapped. With one movement, he swirled around, lifted and strung his bow, firing a forceful arrow half a second later. It shook strongly for a long while as it hit the trunk of a tree, the sudden force causing a pack of birds to lift from its branches in panic.

Lirath glared at the arrow-tip. Had it been aimed at an orc... would he have inflicted any damage?

His heart skipped a beat as someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he spun around. He relaxed as he recognized the female elf who had managed to approach him soundlessly, who stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Her curled, silvery blonde hair was held back by a loose, long braid over her shoulder, so resembling to the shade of her youngest daughters. A simple bright blue tunic clad her upper body, with a pair of plain leggings to wear underneath, reflecting her un-need of formal clothing.

"Mother," he sighed. Though she had not been the first one he expected to meet out here, he had known he would find her inside the family's home.

Delylith Windrunner, wife to Galéndi Windrunner and mother to his children, patiently tilted her head to the side as she studied him. His gaze dropped to the ground, too ashamed to face her at that moment.

"What is bothering you, Lirath?" Delylith wondered softly. He tried to turn away even further, as he felt water burn at his eyes. Somehow, his mother always managed to lure out his true feelings, even when he tried so hard at concealing them.

"Nothing," he mumbled. He could hear her sigh at his transparent lie.

He blamed himself for being so dishonest with her. They both knew that his confidence faltered more and more each day, mainly because his archery skills never even hinted at improving to level of for example his siblings. But he refused to admit it to himself, let alone to her.

For what if she was disappointed in him? What if she told his father, and he threatened with disowning him for the damage he brought upon their clan's honour?

He held back a gasp as her arms embraced him tightly, motherly. Almost instantly, he could feel his worries slip out of him, as he closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of home. A scent he always related to her, for it was there he would find her to comfort him. He lifted his eyelids slightly, frowning.

He knew she would always be there, waiting for her children and husband to come back. It was never the other way around.

Since years past, ever since he was a young child, his mother had declined invitations to noble banquets and dinners, preferring to stay back at their manor instead. Or, 'preferred' was perhaps the wrong word to use. He knew she hated it. But she had no other choice, as the exhaustion of her earlier life among the Ranger Squad of Silvermoon had caught up with her before her time, this due to the number of childbirths she had gone through.

Because of their long lives, it was not accustomed for an elven family to have more than one child, perhaps two. So when Delylith Windrunner suddenly expected her sixth child, not many quel'dorei believed she would survive the delivery; her body had already been pressured enough. Yet, she had not only survived, but regained quite fast from the birth, surprising many.

Even so, the number of childbirths had taken their toll on her. Her strength had waned greatly since her last pregnancy, in turn forcing her to leave the Ranger's Squad and start focusing on her health. Of course he felt guilty.

"Do not take their words to heart, little one, but keep them in your mind. It's what I always did," she said softly.

He slowly withdrew from her comforting embrace. "Why do you still speak to me like a child? I'm an apprentice now - it should make a difference, should it not?"

Delylith smiled at her soon, understanding in her ocean blue eyes. "Yes, you are grown now, Lirath. But a part of me will always see you as my little boy, who feared the thunder and dreamed of becoming a ranger, like his siblings."

He sighed to himself. Something told him that it was not simply _part_ of her who thought that way.

His mother gave him a final pat on the cheek. "Don't worry. I believe with all of my heart, that you will be accepted into the Ranger's Squad in no time at all, and that you will fight bravely as your sister's subordinate." She then swirled around and headed back down the path which lead to their family manor, motioning for him to do the same.

'Or as her superior,' he thought vividly. He threw a final glare to the arrow behind him, and then sighed and followed his mother. The arrow was left behind, still deeply embedded within the tree trunk. It remained as an indirect vow of what was to come.


	9. Contempt and fear

_Yes,_so ehm... I'm just going to leave this chapter here... bye bye ^^'

Listened to a lot of Mass Effect soundtrack and Two steps from hell when writing was very emotional and hard...

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Chapter IX: Contempt and fear

Despite the bright and beautiful morning that awoke the villagers, Windrunner Village remained unusually quiet - and observant.

It had not been a month since the orc invasion, so the horrible memories of the incident were still fresh in the minds of the elves. In some manner, Zendarin mused, it was as if they blamed themselves for being happy while knowing that the Horde still lurked in their forests, waiting to steal that joy away.

He, if anyone, understood why it was so. He, too, had lost family during the attack.

The young arcanist kneeled down. The grass below him was still wet from the morning dew, staining his robes as he touched the ground. He gazed softly at the freshly placed tombstone before him, trying to grasp the thought that if he from now on wished to talk with his father, he would have to turn to an immobile object.

A calm breeze swept through the trees as he took a deep breath, thus regaining control of his emotions. Slowly, he reached into his robes and revealed a folded piece of parchment. He carefully unfolded it and straightened it out, studying the inked letters which were written on it. He glanced at the tombstone, as if to reassure himself that it was still there - listening.

He licked his lips nervously before speaking. "Do you know what this is, father?" he asked out loud, gesturing towards the parchment. He smiled slightly. "It is a letter from Dalaran I received yesterday. I would have presented it to you earlier, I just..." his voice faded out, and he gazed down at the parchment again. He sighed once more, before setting his eyes on the silent monument again, his somewhat held-down pride combined with sadness and longing.

"They've accepted me for studies, father," Zendarin announced. There was no reply, as he would have expected. However, at the same time, it felt as if a huge weight was being lifted off of him. Perhaps he just longed to say it out loud then, a part of him pretending that he would hear his father's response.

A sudden applause from behind him caused Zendarin to jump up in surprise. He raised his hands in defense, ready to cast a spell if it was an orc approaching. However, he found himself facing not the demonic red eyes of an orc, but rather, the clear blue ones of his cousin.

Vereesa smiled nervously at him, surprise over his reaction written all over her face. "Did I frighten you? I'm sorry."

Zendarin relaxed and lowered his hands. He felt his cheeks burning in response to his seemingly paranoid behavior. "No, no... Forgive me, I just uh, did not expect anyone to come here." He turned back to the grave. "I thought I was alone."

The silver-haired ranger shifted slightly, unsure of what to say. She had been with him when the news of her uncle's death was announced. She would never be able to let go of the image of Zendarin's face, his shock, his sadness, his anger... The reaction when hearing what you thought impossible. At that time, she had lost an uncle. He had lost a father. She couldn't imagine being in his place, and she prayed it would never occur.

As her cousin knelt down before the tombstone again, she followed his example and held her hands in prayer. Since the Horde attacked, she had noticed how her cousin had shown less and less emotion - the horrible memories were draining him of it. Her heart was aching as she watched him suffer, knowing that there was nothing to be done. No words could console him. No idle conversations could bring his father back. Still, she felt as if she had no right to disturb him in his mourning, and so she remained silent.

She took a brief moment to inhale the nature around her. Gruesome things had taken place beneath the red-leafed trees of Eversong; still they breathed and sung out to her; perhaps to comfort them all. Bearing that thought, Vereesa could not help but smile in gratefulness.

"It seems like rain clouds approach," Zendarin suddenly uttered, startling his cousin. She looked up and saw that indeed, thick, dark clouds were starting to engulf the blue sky. "Perhaps we should head back to the village," he continued and stood up, Vereesa following his example.

She nodded. "Indeed. And I suspect that mother will – "The young ranger interrupted herself, staring alerted into the woods. In a brief seconds, all her senses stood on fire, reacting to every single being. Her heart started beating faster and faster. "Something's wrong" she hissed.

Zendarin looked at her questionably, but before he could open his mouth a piercing scream scattered through the trees, confirming Vereesa's worst fears. She could already hear their brutish language, the sound of their axes flying through the air…

Without another word, the two cousins began their panicked sprint towards their home. Praying desperately that they would not be too late. And as they ran, the scent of smoke dashed at them.

"I thought the scouts had driven them all out!" Zendarin shouted as he ducked for a branch in their way.

"They must have returned! Oh by the sun, I hope we're not too late!" Vereesa shouted back.

The wind whipped harshly in her face as they finally arrived at the village, already usurped by the fray. Vereesa's stomach twisted into a knot as the images before her brought back the memories from not so long ago – images she had prayed so hard would not repeat themselves.

The orcs seemed to have taken the high elves by surprise – the panicked villagers ran in panic to escape the brute, green-skinned creatures, all the while the out posted rangers attempted some sort of organized attack, in vain. She caught one of the unit leaders, Alarith, standing in the middle of the chaos, desperately barking orders to his rangers while firing off arrows at any orc that dared get to close. Ignoring the protests of her cousin, she ran off and tried to reach his side.

She had almost caught up with him when a muscular arm hit her in the side, throwing her into the nearest building. A stung of pain spread throughout her body and caused tears to form in her eyes, blurring her vision. The young ranger attempted to sit up as the orc sneered down at her. He grunted something at her in his native language, but she neither could nor cared to understand.

She groaned as she reached for her blade, the weapon having slipped from her grasp during the fall. Her ability to focus before her was weak. The orc that towered above her grunted and swung his axe, to kill her before she had the time to defend herself. She gasped.

The orc staggered, a blank expression spreading over his ugly features. As he stumbled forward, Vereesa swiftly moved out of way. She allowed herself to relax first when she could see the arrow embedded deeply in his head. A gentle hand on her shoulder caused her to finally look up at her saviour.

"Ísen!" she cried, throwing her arms around her brother in relief. The oldest of the Windrunner children was covered in blood, not his own Vereesa assumed, since he bore no visible cuts, and he smiled slightly at the sight of his younger sister.

He hugged her back for a moment, and then turned serious again. "The orcs ambushed a guard patrol. One of them managed to get here in time to warn us, but I wonder if it made a difference." He sighed in dejection, gazing at the chaos that took place around them.

Vereesa nodded slowly, her brows furrowed. "Where are the others? Are they safe?"

"Sylvanas and her rangers are holding them off in the market. I told Lirath to barricade himself at home. Mother and father, I don't know."

"I see." Vereesa bit her lip in thought. She tried to remember where she had last put her bow and arrows, but was disturbed by a sudden war cry, from one of their attackers. She had to make due with what she had at the moment.

"Back away!" she yelled to Ísen, motioning for him to gain more range. He darted off without a word, and she drew her blade again, taunting the orc.

The brute creature sneered at her before lifting his own weapon, a heavy mace that dripped with blood. Vereesa felt nausea creep upon her, so she charged before it overwhelmed her. She swiftly dodged the mace as it flew through the air, her lithe body an advantage against the large orc. Before he had the time to react, she lashed out with her sword against his unprotected chest, drawing blood immediately. He snarled at her in fury, lunging at her.

"Now!" she cried out. Her sudden shout confused her opponent, who stopped dead in his movement. Just long enough for Ísen's arrow to hit him.

Vereesa took a moment to breathe out once their enemy was down, but she knew she couldn't relax for long. She had to find her parents and make sure they were alright. She looked up as Ìsen approached to tug the arrow out from its prey. He sighed as it broke in two, and quickly discarded it.

"I will go to the market, try to flank them," she told him steadily. She looked down at her blade and disgustedly wiped the orcish blood off with her cloak. "I also need to find a bow. There is a possibility I left mine back home."

Her brother nodded, and then looked away at the sound of a collapse somewhere further into the village. "Then this is where we part. I need to find my squad." He was already turning away, putting a new arrow to his bowstring.

"May the eternal sun guide you, brother" Vereesa said quietly, as she watched him run back into the fray. Against her wishes, she had to take a moment to calm herself before doing the same. The Horde would get what was coming to them.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Don't let them get through!" Sylvanas yelled at the top of her lungs, her arms already tiring of the gruesome effort. She was clueless as to how these savage orcs had managed to take the elves by surprise, when it was clear that they could not stealth, melt into the shadows. Their red eyes, their alien green skin, their brute movement... She flew into a rage just thinking that they walked her forests.

Two of the charging orcs ran straight towards her. She gritted her teeth and sent off two arrows without a second thought, felling her victims with one breath. All around her, her rangers were trying their best to hold the enemy off as well. She cursed as one of the less experienced ones were knocked down by his orcish attacker. Before she had the time to get through to his side, the orc raised his blade and sent it through the young elf's stomach.

Sylvanas cried out in rage and charged the orc, sword in hand, who looked at her in dumb surprise. He snarled and parried her blow in the last moment. She cursed as she felt herself being pushed back by his strength, but her anger and determination was stronger than his arm. With one quick jerk of the blade, Sylvanas unarmed her opponent and slashed his throat. Her foe was down, but she gave room for her anger. She stomped the orc's head against the ground until she felt sure that he was dead.

"G-general..."

The Windrunner daughter swirled around. The young ranger who had been cut down was still breathing, but he was bleeding heavily and his face grew paler by the second. She cursed again and threw herself down at his side, putting one hand to the back of his head for support. Upon further examination of his wound, she realized that he would not have long if no healers arrived. Her eyes flickered around the chaos in desperation, but no mages were sighted. Either the few who had been present at the village had fled the field, or they were already dead. She looked back at the ranger.

"You're beyond any salvation I can offer you. I would rather give you a quick death now by my own hand, than surrender you to these fiends," she told him softly with regret.

He stared at her with a pained gaze, and then nodded, almost indiscernible. She returned the nod, and then lifted his dagger, her own blade drenched in orc blood and thus not worthy of such a task. She allowed him to press his eyes together, and then drove the dagger through his heart, immediately stopping its beat and making his death quick and merciful. His body went limp, so she carefully laid him down on the ground.

The Ranger-General braced herself, and as steadily as she could she gathered the dead ranger's weapons and brought them with her as she sped towards her remaining archers. She dropped them close to where they made their stand, and then gazed out over the situation.

Though it didn't seem as if there were more of the Horde approaching, the quel'dorei were still being overwhelmed. There were more elven bodies on the market ground than orcs, and if their reinforcements did not arrive there were sure to be more. But she realized that she could not lose face. If she gave show of her growing lack of confidence to her rangers, they would follow suit. So without another word, she strung her bow to finish off the next orc that dared get through.

.-.-.-.-.-.-

Vereesa ducked the orc's blow and went directly for his legs. With one experienced lash, she severed his hamstring and brought him to the ground. The orc cried out in pain, a sound that would soon turn out to be his dying shout. The elven girl put her strength into her next strike and drove the blade through his neck. She twisted it a few times before pulling it out and backing away.

She had not been able to find a bow, but so far she had been able to protect herself and the fleeing villagers with her melee weapon alone. She just hoped that her skills in close-up battle would not fail her, and reminded herself to practice the art more, if they would ever survive this mess.

Looking up, she saw one of the Horde infiltrators leaning over his newly felled foe, searching her body for anything worth taking. The idea alone that the orcs could appreciate elven culture struck her as utterly ridiculous, but it angered her none the less to see him defile their precious belongings. She gave out a war cry and charged, causing the orc to turn around earlier than she had anticipated.

He growled and reached for his club, muttering something in his language, and made himself ready for battle. Vereesa lunged at him, her sword aimed at his throat. Before she could reach him, he struck back, landing a blow in her chest. The force knocked her several feet away.

Fortunately enough, she just missed being thrown into a wall, yet the air had been knocked out of her lungs. She struggled and gasped for breath, rolling over on the ground in pain. She estimated herself to have broken a few ribs, but it was nothing that would keep her from fighting. She gazed at her orcish opponent, who approached her with a sneer. She just had to... stand for a little while...

The orc suddenly widened his eyes in surprise, looking down at his massive shoulder to see the tip of an arrow protruding from his green flesh. Vereesa followed his gaze in and searched for its archer, already fearing the worst.

A young elf stood facing them up on an abandoned wagon. He already had a new arrow aimed at his foe, who seemed to smirk in mockery at him. Even Vereesa could tell that Lirath, her precious little brother, was shaking with fear. "No..." she whispered, her head beginning to pound.

The brute creature reached to roughly pull the arrow out of his shoulder, and then slowly approached the young ranger. His hands shaking, Lirath cried out and fired again, the arrow-tip bouncing off the orc's chest-guard. He immediately paled, panic visibly starting to creep upon him as he hurried to try and string his bow again.

Vereesa watched in horror as the orc knocked the wooden weapon out of his hands with a grunt. She struggled to get up against the pain, but her body failed her. Tears of panic and sorrow fell down her cheeks as she watched the scene that took place in front of her.

The orc took a hold of Lirath's neck with one rough hand, holding him high over the ground. The Windrunner son whimpered in fear. The orc snarled, and then took a hold of the young elf's head with his other hand... and crushed it.

Lirath's dejected cry of agony was joined by that of his sister, who unable to tear her eyes from the nightmarish scene, desperately tried to tell herself that was simply a horrible and bad dream. But suddenly her brother's body went limp in the orc's grip, and was tossed into a wall like a rag-doll.

"NO!" she half-screamed, half-sobbed, her own body starting to give up its efforts in sorrow.

She could barely register what was happening before her. Not Ísen appearing out of the distance to lunge at his brother's attacker. Not the brutal and wanted vengeance of a life already lost. Not the chaos that continued to erupt around them. How could the world go on, when the most beautiful life had already slipped away from its embrace?

Vereesa crawled forward, her physical pain numbed. With every movement she made, she hoped to be awoken from this cruel nightmare, for no world could be so cruel as to take her precious brother away. Not Lirath. Not the young boy who cried when they left him behind for the royal ball. Not him, who said he wanted to be a ranger just like his siblings.

Kneeling next to her and their brother's corpse, was Ísen. He was covered in blood, sufficing as proof of his murderer's demise, his expression blank with a hint of confusion and sorrow. As if he, just like Vereesa, refused to believe what was already made clear.

She reached out to touch Lirath's cheek. His eyes were open and wide, staring up and on into the sky, just like when he was a child and would admire its mystique. A thick layer of blood trailed down unto his face, reminding them of the surreal. Lirath Windrunner, youngest of the clan, was dead.

"Lirath..." Vereesa whispered, sobbing, still hopelessly trying to reach back to him. "Lirath...!"

The first victim of many had been claimed. The proud people of the quel'dorei had been set upon the long road of misfortune and tragedy that fate had planned for them, though it still remained unsaid.

When the reinforcements from Silvermoon finally arrived at Windrunner village, it seemed to many as if there was nothing left saving. The Horde was pushed back and its stragglers exterminated, slaughtered for the blood they had shed. Even after the fires had been put out, the fray continued to play out before Vereesa's eyes.

The orcs had taken everything from her. And they would take much more, she thought to herself as she staggered past the ruins of her home, hopelessly watching the grieving families, the orphaned children. Besides Lirath, she had lost other family on this day. Aunts and uncles... and her mother.

She found Galéndi kneeling at her corpse several hours later, and then the shock became too much for her to handle. She felt her knees failing her, and how her surroundings darkened. The sound of crying and the sight of the dead was drowned out.


	10. Blood and tears

_**I'm not going to lie,**_writing this story is getting harder and harder for me. But I promise, I WILL finish it, though it might take longer than I thought. Not only have I lost faith in Blizzard, I might be developing a writer's block with this story only. But like I said before, I will finish it, and that's final. However, I've decided to delete my other WoW story, "My guardian angel", until I've gotten more interest in it again.

This part of the story is very depressing... so I listened to Heavy Rain soundtrack just to get me in the mood...Q.Q

* * *

_Chapter X: Blood and tears_

There was nothing but silence.

There was no mother to hold her and tell her that it was all just a bad dream. There was no uncles to urge her on. No brother to protect...

Sylvanas had failed the duty most sacred to her heart. Even though she had fought until every last orc she set her eyes on lay dead at her feet; despite that she had helped secured a future for her home; it had all been for nothing.

The sorrow tore at her heart, as did the screams from around her tear at her mind. Alleria and her squad had arrived but a few hours ago, yet it seemed an eternity had passed since her sister had gone to see their mother's body. She could not recall how long she'd been screaming and crying in there, as if trying to put the blame on someone, _something_, as to try and make the pain go away.

Such thinking was foolish. This was reality.

The loud voices from the hospice lounge quieted down, only slightly, and Sylvanas slowly looked up from her folded arms. Family members and friends of all variants had gathered in the hallway to participate in the first stage of mourning. Some stood, stiff and blank along the walls - other had thrown themselves down on a sofa or chair where they buried their puffy faces in hands and shoulders. Alleria's attendant, Verana, stared off to the lounge door with a concern she did not try to hide. Her little Vereesa, the poor thing, seemed to have fallen asleep crying, head resting in the lap of her aunt. Her brothers each sat next to her on the sofa, tears slowly running down their cheeks. Or, the two that remained...

Sylvanas felt the tears boil up inside of her again, as the doors flung open with a slam. Alleria's golden hair stuck to her face in wet stripes, worn by the fast ride from the Alliance Camp. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, giving her a wild and ragged look. Without another word she marched out of the room, into the hallway and not a second later, Sylvanas heard the front door close behind her. Verana followed close after, giving the silent Windrunners an apologetic nod as she left.

The second sister stared up into the ceiling, fighting to keep her tears back. Her family was broken, and she doubted things would ever return normal, for she'd never get over their deaths. She was exhausted, worn, in despair. She wanted to go hunt for those bloody orcs who had torn her life to shreds. She wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep, to know she'd wake up from a horrible, horrible nightmare. Biting her lip, she slowly shook her head.

She felt a soft hand to her shoulder, recognizing the mild scent of her big brother. Ísen spoke quietly, almost in a whisper as if not to disturb the aura of mourning. Still, she caught the quiver of his voice. "Let's go home."

"I will not leave them here," was her stiff reply, referring to those who would never wake.

Ísen knew. He squeezed her shoulder for a moment. "I'll take Urondil and Vereesa back. If you... please, try to sleep, sister." His grip faded.

Sylvanas did not move from her position. A while later, she saw Urondil holding the exit door open for his brother, carrying Vereesa in his arms. Tears burned at her eyes as she saw the young girl sob in her sleep.

She clenched her fists. No. She would not leave her family.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Although it seemed unlikely, the day passed and nightfall started to creep upon the torn village. Buildings stood broken and damaged of fire, some trees and plants had suffered such injury from the ongoing battle that they'd most likely never recover, but at least the streets were cleared from bodies.

All fallen quel'dorei were waiting for a proper, honoured funeral, as soon as the body count was complete. Ísen would never forget that one glimpse he got of his murdered brother's face; bloody, eyes open, damaged. At least his mother had been given a somewhat pain-free death. From what he'd been told, she had fallen down the manor stairs while trying to escape the orcs which invaded their home. The mutilation they had caused her body had not been done 'til after her heartbeat stopped. He was unsure of how to feel about that. All he knew was that those monsters got what they deserved - now their bodies would burn and rot, far away from the thalassian border.

As he moved through the rubble of his fallen childhood home, he caught his friend, the ranger Halduron, trying to raise a stone memento that had fallen over. He struggled with his task, sweat smudging out the dirt on his skin. Ísen hurried over, relieving him partially of his burden. As soon as the bright-haired elf noticed the identity of his assistant, he softened.

"Ísen, please, let me take care of it..."

"No, I want to help." The oldest Windrunner child avoided the other man's gaze as he hoisted up the memento. Anything to keep it off of his mind. Halduron said nothing. They continued their work in the same grateful silence. Ísen appreciated that Halduron did nothing to show sympathy; surely he understood. After all, he like had lost loved ones too, just like any other quel'dorei.

By the time they finished their day's work, the two moons had slowly crept upon the night-clad sky. The last remnants of a crimson dusk lingered by the horizon, blowing a haunting breeze through Ísen's body.

Halduron looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you alright?" Perhaps he had thought him to be on the verge of tears.

Ísen shook his head. "Yes, yes I am. I merely..." His voice trailed off. The sound of hooves echoed through the dark and shattered village, and in a matter of seconds, the both young men could spot a ghostly white shape riding towards them in a quick pace. It didn't take long for the Windrunner son to recognize the rider. Not a ghost. At least, not a white one.

She was covered from head to toe in what could only be blood, eyes aflame. Her long blond hair fluttered behind her like a curtain. T he seen was haunting, and Ísen shivered. Of cold or fright, he could not tell.

"Alleria..." he whispered. Whether it was to call her, or to try and tell himself that she was indeed his sister, he was unsure as well. Nevertheless, she paid him not with a glance. She urged her mount onwards, her face stiff and covered in red and water.

Not thinking, Ísen ran after her. There was no telling what was on her mind, but he was worried. She was not herself. Not Alleria. About halfway through the village, she suddenly dismounted, and Ísen slowed down. She let the reins the mare fall as she proceeded by foot, a slight stagger in her walk, he noticed. He clenched his jaw and caught up with her.

"Sister!" he called. She did not flinch, and so he called again, grabbing her by the shoulder. Alleria looked grimly in his eyes. It was not until then, seeing her up close, that Ísen noticed that the blood which covered her body was not her own. "Alleria?"

"There's a mess to clean up, Ísen," she growled. She drew a deep breath between her gritted teeth, eyes staring at something he could not see. "A rotten, filthy mess."

She swatted his hand away and continued towards their home. A broken home.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Vereesa awoke with a sob. The image of Alleria's blood-soaked visage would never stop haunting her mind, and it kept her from her sleep. She, herself, was drenched in sweat and tears blurred her eyesight. Just sitting up hurt, her mind as well as her body. The memories would blur together, the horrific images... Lirath's dead body, father's crying, Alleria's flaring eyes...

She slowly swung her legs over the bed's edge, resting her head in her hands. It all felt so very hopeless. There was no need to even go on, was there? Because there was no one, _nothing_, that would make everything alright again.

Outside, it rained.


End file.
